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CONSTABLE’S  RUSSIAN  LIBRARY  UNDER  THE  EDITORSHIP  OF 
STEPHEN  GRAHAM 


THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


CONSTABLE'S  RUSSIAN  LIBRARY 

EDITED  WITH  INTRODUCTIONS 
By  STEPHEN  GRAHAM. 


THE  SWEET-SCENTED  NAME 

By  Fedor  Sologub 

WAR  AND  CHRISTIANITY: 

THREE  CONVERSATIONS 

By  Vladimir  Solovyof 

THE  WAY  OF  THE  CROSS 

By  V.  Doroshevitch 

A SLAV  SOUL,  AND  OTHER  STORIES 

By  Alexander  Kuprin 

THE  EMIGRANT 

By  L.  F.  Dostoieffskaya 


THE  REPUBLIC  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  CROSS, 
AND  OTHER  STORIES  < 

By  Valery  Brussof 


THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

By  Vladimir  Solovyof 


THE  JUSTIFICATION 
OF  THE  GOOD 


AN  ESSAY  ON  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY 
By  VLADIMIR  SOLOVYOF 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  RUSSIAN 

By  NATHALIE  A.  DUDDINGTON,  M.A. 

WITH  A NOTE 

By  STEPHEN  GRAHAM 


LONDON 

CONSTABLE  AND  COMPANY  LTD. 


First  Published  1918. 


\no 

Slo^Ti 


DEDICATED  TO 
MY  FATHER,  THE  HISTORIAN 

SERGEY  MIHAILOVITCH  SOLOVYOF 

AND  TO  MY  GRANDFATHER,  THE  PRIEST 

MIHAIL  VASSILYEVITCH  SOLOVYOF 

WITH  A LIVING  AND  GRATEFUL  RECOGNITION 
OF  AN  ETERNAL  BOND 


2 


Q O a q ■<*> 
*-*■'  6 


EDITOR’S  NOTE 


It  may  be  of  use  to  the  reader  approaching  Solovyof  for  the  first 
time  if  I state  in  an  elementary  form  the  ideas  to  which  the 
Russian  philosopher  specially  consecrated  his  life  and  energies. 
They  were  : 

The  universal  Church,  the  idea  of  the  unity  of  Christendom, 
and  beyond  that  ultimately  the  conscious  unity  of  mankind. 
Not  a world-republic,  however,  but  a world-church. 

The  evolution  of  the  God-man,  not  the  superman  with  his 
greater  earth-sense  and  fierceness,  but  the  God-man  with  his 
greater  heaven-sense,  mystical  sense. 

The  Eternal  Feminine,  a characterisation  of  all  humanity  at 
one  in  the  mystical  body  of  the  Church.  Woman  as  the  final 
expression  of  the  material  world  in  its  inward  passivity. 

Love  as  the  highest  revelation,  the  gleam  of  another  world 
upon  our  ordinary  existence.  Love,  therefore,  as  the  proof  of 
immortality,  the  guerdon  and  sense  of  it. 

Sancta  Sophia,  the  Heavenly  Wisdom,  the  grand  final  unity 
of  praise,  the  wall  of  the  city  of  God. 

The  Justification  of  the  Good  is  the  book  in  which  Solovyof 
elucidates  the  laws  of  the  higher  idealism.  It  is  a classical  work 
of  the  utmost  importance  in  Russian  studies.  All  that  is  positive 
in  modern  Russian  thought  springs  from  the  teaching  of  Solovyof. 
Time  is  only  now  coming  abreast  of  him  and  he  appears  especially 
as  the  prophet  of  this  era,  with  his  vision  of  united  humanity  and 
the  realisation  of  the  kingdom.  All  students  of  thought  and 
religion,  both  here  and  in  America,  ought  to  feel  indebted  to 

vii 


? Q O p,  r.  7 

cj  u G s 


viii  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

Mrs.  Duddington  for  the  brilliant  translation  she  has  done. 
Tolstoy  we  know  ; Dostoievsky  we  know  ; and  now  comes  a 
new  force  into  our  life,  Solovyof,  the  greatest  of  the  three. 
Through  Solovyof  we  shall  see  Russia  better  and  Europe  better. 


STEPHEN  GRAHAM. 


SOLOVYOF’S 

PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION 


The  object  of  this  book  is  to  show  the  good  as  truth  and  righteous- 
ness., that  is,  as  the  only  right  and  consistent  way  of  life  in  all 
things  and  to  the  end,  for  all  who  decide  to  follow  it.  I mean  the 
Good  as  such  ; it  alone  justifies  itself  and  justifies  our  confidence 
in  it.  And  it  is  not  for  nothing  that  before  the  open  grave, 
when  all  else  has  obviously  failed,  we  call  to  this  essential  Good 
and  say,  “ Blessed  art  Thou,  O Lord,  for  Thou  hast  taught  us 
Thy  justification.” 

In  the  individual,  national,  and  historical  life  of  humanity,  the 
Good  justifies  itself  by  its  own  good  and  right  ways.  A moral 
philosophy,  true  to  the  Good,  having  discovered  these  ways  in  the 
past,  indicates  them  to  the  present  for  the  future. 

When,  in  setting  out  on  a journey,  you  take  up  a guide-book , 
you  seek  in  it  nothing  but  true,  complete,  and  clear  directions  with 
regard  to  the  route  chosen.  This  book  will  not  persuade  you  to 
go  to  Italy  or  Switzerland  if  you  have  decided  to  go  to  Siberia, 
nor  will  it  provide  you  with  money  to  traverse  the  oceans  if  you 
can  only  pay  the  fare  down  to  the  Black  Sea. 

Moral  philosophy  is  no  more  than  a systematic  guide  to  the 
right  way  of  life’s  journey  for  men  and  nations  ; the  author  is 
only  responsible  for  his  directions  being  correct,  complete,  and 
coherent.  But  no  exposition  of  the  moral  norms — of  the  con- 
ditions, i.e.  for  attaining  the  true  purpose  of  life — can  have  any 
meaning  for  the  man  who  consciously  puts  before  him  an  utterly 


IX 


X THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

different  aim.  To  indicate  the  necessary  stations  on  the  road  to 
the  better,  when  the  worse  has  been  definitely  chosen,  is  not 
merely  a useless  but  an  annoying  and  even  insulting  thing  to  do, 
for  it  brings  the  bad  choice  back  to  one’s  mind,  especially  when 
in  our  inmost  heart  the  choice  is  unconsciously  and  in  spite  of 
ourselves  felt  to  be  both  bad  and  irrevocable. 

I have  not  the  slightest  intention  of  preaching  virtue  and 
denouncing  vice  ; I consider  this  to  be  both  an  idle  and  an  immoral 
occupation  for  a simple  mortal,  since  it  presupposes  an  unjust  and 
proud  claim  to  be  better  than  other  people.  What  matters,  from 
the  point  of  view  of  moral  philosophy,  are  not  the  particular  devia- 
tions from  the  right  way,  however  great  they  may  be,  but  only 
the  general,  definite,  and  decisive  choice  between  two  moral  paths, 
a choice  made  with  full  deliberation.  The  question  may  be  asked 
whether  every  man  makes  such  a choice.  It  certainly  is  not  made 
by  people  who  die  in  their  infancy,  and,  so  far  as  clear  conscious- 
ness of  self  is  concerned,  many  grown-up  people  are  not  far 
removed  from  babes.  Moreover,  it  should  be  noted  that  even 
when  conscious  choice  has  been  made,  it  cannot  be  observed  from 
outside.  The  distinction  of  principle  between  the  two  paths  has 
no  empirical  definiteness , and  cannot  be  practically  defined.  I have 
seen  many  strange  and  wondrous  things,  but  two  objects  have  I 
never  come  across  in  nature  : a man  who  has  finally  attained 
perfect  righteousness,  and  a man  who  has  finally  become  utterly 
evil.  And  all  the  pseudo-mystical  cant  based  upon  external  and 
practically  applicable  divisions  of  humanity  into  the  sheep  and 
the  goats,  the  regenerate  and  the  unregenerate,  the  saved  and  the 
damned,  simply  reminds  me  of  the  frank  words  of  the  miller — 

Long  have  I travelled 
And  much  have  I seen, 

But  copper  spurs  on  water  pails 
Saw  I never  ne’en. 

At  the  same  time  I think  of  the  lectures  I heard  long  ago 
at  the  University  on  embryology  and  zoology  of  the  inverte- 


PREFACE 


XI 


brate.  These  lectures  enabled  me,  among  other  things,  to  form  a 
definite  conception  of  the  two  well-known  truths,  namely,  that 
at  the  lowest  stages  of  organic  life  no  one  but  a learned  biologist, 
and  sometimes  not  even  he,  can  distinguish  the  vegetable  from  the 
animal  forms,  and  that  at  the  early  stages  of  the  intra-uterine  life 
only  a learned  embryologist  can  tell,  and  not  always  with  certainty, 
the  embryo  of  man  from  the  embryo  of  some  other  creature,  often 
of  a distinctly  unpleasant  one.  It  is  the  same  with  the  history  of 
humanity  and  with  the  moral  world.  At  the  early  stages  the  two 
paths  are  very  close  together,  and  outwardly  indistinguishable. 

But  why,  it  will  be  asked,  do  I speak  with  regard  to  the  moral 
world,  of  the  choice  between  two  paths  only  ? The  reason  is,  that 
in  spite  of  all  the  multiplicity  of  the  forms  and  expressions  or 
life,  one  path  only  leads  to  the  life  that  we  hope  for  and  renders  it 
eternal.  All  other  paths,  which  at  first  seem  so  like  it,  lead  in  the 
opposite  direction,  fatally  draw  farther  and  farther  away  from  it, 
and  finally  become  merged  together  in  the  one  path  of  eternal 
death. 

In  addition  to  these  two  paths  that  differ  in  principle,  some 
thinkers  try  to  discover  a third  path,  which  is  neither  good  nor 
bad,  but  natural  or  animal.  Its  supreme  practical  principle  is  best 
expressed  by  a German  aphorism,  which,  however,  was  unknown 
both  to  Kant  and  to  Hegel : Jedes  Tierchen  hat  sein  Plaisirchen. 
This  formula  expresses  an  unquestionable  truth,  and  only  stands  in 
need  of  amplification  by  another  truth,  equally  indisputable  : Allen 
Tieren  fatal  1st  zu  krep'iren.  And  when  this  necessary  addition 
is  made,  the  third  path— that  of  animality  made  into  a principle— 
is  seen  to  be  reduced  to  the  second  path  of  death.1  It  is  impos- 
sible for  man  to  avoid  the  dilemma,  the  final  choice  between  the 
two  paths — of  good  and  of  evil.  Suppose,  indeed,  we  decide  to  take 
the  third,  the  animal  path,  which  is  neither  good  nor  bad,  but 

1 The  pseudo-superhuman  path,  thrown  into  vivid  light  by  the  madness  of  the 
unhappy  Nietzsche,  comes  to  the  same  thing.  See  below,  Preface  to  the  First 
Edition. 


xii  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

merely  natural.  It  is  natural  for  animals,  just  because  animals  do 
not  decide  anything,  do  not  choose  between  this  path  and  any 
other,  but  passively  follow  the  only  one  upon  which  they  have 
been  placed  by  a will  foreign  to  them.  But  when  man  actively 
decides  to  follow  the  path  of  moral  passivity , he  is  clearly  guilty  of 
falsehood,  wrong,  and  sin,  and  is  obviously  entering  not  upon  the 
animal  path,  but  upon  that  of  the  two  human  paths  which  proves 
in  the  end,  if  not  at  the  beginning,  to  be  the  path  of  eternal  evil 
and  death.  It  is  indeed  easy  to  see  from  the  first  that  it  is  worse 
than  the  animal  path.  Our  younger  brothers  are  deprived  of 
reason,  but  they  undoubtedly  possess  an  inner  sense  ; and  although 
they  cannot  consciously  condemn  and  be  ashamed  of  their  nature 
and  its  bad,  mortal  way,  they  obviously  suffer  from  it ; they  long 
for  something  better  which  they  do  not  know  but  which  they 
dimly  feel.  This  truth,  once  powerfully  expressed  by  St.  Paul 
(Rom.  viii.  19-23),  and  less  powerfully  repeated  by  Schopen- 
hauer, is  entirely  confirmed  by  observation.  Never  does  a human 
face  bear  the  expression  of  that  profound,  hopeless  melancholy 
which,  for  no  apparent  reason,  overshadows  sometimes  the  faces 
of  animals.  It  is  impossible  for  man  to  stop  at  the  animal  self- 
satisfaction,  if  only  because  animals  are  not  in  the  least  self-satisfied. 
A conscious  human  being  cannot  be  an  animal,  and,  whether  he  will 
or  no,  he  must  choose  between  two  paths.  He  must  either  become 
higher  and  better  than  his  material  nature,  or  become  lower  and 
worse  than  the  animal.  And  the  essentially  human  attribute 
which  man  cannot  be  deprived  of  consists  not  in  the  fact  that  he 
becomes  this  or  that,  but  in  the  fact  that  he  becomes.  Man  gains 
nothing  by  slandering  his  younger  brothers  and  falsely  describing 
as  animal  and  natural  the  path  of  diabolical  persistence  in  the 
wrong — the  path  which  he  himself  has  chosen,  and  which  is 
opposed  both  to  life  and  to  nature. 

What  I most  desired  to  show  in  this  book  is  the  manner  in 
which  the  one  way  of  the  Good,  while  remaining  true  to  itself, 


PREFACE 


xiii 

and,  consequently,  justifying  itself,  grows  in  completeness  and 
definiteness  as  the  conditions  of  the  historical  and  natural  environ- 
ment become  more  complex.  The  chief  claim  of  my  theory  is  to 
establish  in  and  through  the  unconditional  principle  of  morality 
the  complete  inner  connection  between  true  religion  and  sound 
politics.  It  is  a perfectly  harmless  claim,  since  true  religion 
cannot  force  itself  upon  any  one,  and  politics  are  free  to  be  as 
unsound  as  they  like — at  their  own  risk,  of  course.  At  the  same 
time  moral  philosophy  makes  no  attempt  to  guide  particular 
individuals  by  laying  down  any  external  and  absolutely  definite 
rules  of  conduct.  If  any  passage  in  the  book  should  strike  the 
reader  as  c moralising  ’ he  will  find  that  either  he  has  misunder- 
stood my  meaning  or  that  I did  not  express  myself  with  sufficient 
clearness. 

But  I have  done  my  best  to  be  clear.  While  preparing  this 
second  edition  I read  the  book  over  five  times  in  the  course  of 
nine  months,  every  time  making  fresh  additions,  both  small  and 
great,  by  way  of  explanation.  Many  defects  of  exposition  still 
remain,  but  I hope  they  are  not  of  such  a nature  as  to  lay  me 
open  to  the  menace,  “ Cursed  is  he  who  doeth  the  work  of  God 
with  negligence.” 

Whilst  I was  engaged  in  writing  this  book  I sometimes  ex- 
perienced moral  benefit  from  it  ; perhaps  this  is  an  indication  that 
the  book  will  not  be  altogether  useless  for  the  reader  also.  If  this 
should  be  the  case  it  will  be  enough  to  justify  this  ‘justification 
of  the  good.’ 

VLADIMIR  SOLOVYOF. 


Moscow,  December  8,  1898. 


SOLOVYOF’S 

PREFACE  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION 

A PRELIMINARY  CONCEPTION  OF  THE  MORAL  MEANING 
OF  LIFE 

Is  there  any  meaning  in  life  ? If  there  is,  is  that  meaning  moral 
in  character,  and  is  its  root  in  the  moral  sphere  ? In  what  does 
it  consist,  and  what  is  the  true  and  complete  definition  of  it  ? 
These  questions  cannot  be  avoided,  and  there  is  no  agreement 
with  regard  to  them  in  modern  consciousness.  Some  thinkers 
deny  all  meaning  to  life,  others  maintain  that  the  meaning  of  life 
has  nothing  to  do  with  morality,  and  in  no  way  depends  upon  our 
right  or  good  relation  to  God,  men,  and  the  world  as  a whole  ; 
the  third  admit  the  importance  of  the  moral  norms  for  life,  but 
give  conflicting  definitions  of  them,  which  stand  in  need  of  analysis 
and  criticism. 

Such  analysis  cannot  in  any  case  be  dismissed  as  unnecessary. 
At  the  present  stage  of  human  consciousness  the  few  who  already 
possess  a firm  and  final  solution  of  the  problem  of  life  for  themselves 
must  justify  it  for  others.  An  intellect  which  has  overcome  its 
own  doubts  does  not  render  the  heart  indifferent  to  the  delusions 
of  others. 

I 

Some  of  those  who  deny  the  meaning  of  life  are  in  earnest 
about  it,  and  end  by  taking  the  practical  step  of  committing 
suicide.  Others  are  not  in  earnest,  and  deny  the  meaning  of  life 
solely  by  means  of  arguments  and  pseudo-philosophic  systems.  I 


xv 


xv i THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

am  certainly  not  opposed  to  arguments  and  systems,  but  I am 
referring  to  men  who  regard  their  philosophising  as  a thing  on  its 
own  account , which  does  not  bind  them  to  any  concrete  actions  or 
demand  any  practical  realisation.  These  men  and  their  intellectual 
exercises  cannot  be  taken  seriously.  Truths  like  the  judgment 
that  the  angles  of  a triangle  are  together  equal  to  two  right  angles 
remain  true  quite  independently  of  the  person  who  utters  them 
and  of  the  life  he  leads  ; but  a pessimistic  valuation  of  life  is  not 
a mathematical  truth — it  necessarily  includes  the  personal,  sub- 
jective attitude  to  life.  When  the  theoretical  pessimist  affirms 
as  a real  objective  truth  that  life  is  evil  and  painful,  he  thereby 
expresses  his  conviction  that  this  is  so  for  every  one , including 
himself.  In  that  case,  why  does  he  go  on  living  and  enjoying 
the  evil  of  life  as  though  it  were  a good  ? It  is  sometimes  urged 
that  instinct  compels  us  to  live  in  spite  of  the  rational  conviction 
that  life  is  not  worth  living.  But  this  appeal  to  instinct  is  vain. 
Instinct  is  not  an  external  mechanically  compelling  force,  but  is 
an  inner  condition  which  prompts  every  living  creature  to  seek 
certain  states  which  appear  to  it  to  be  pleasant  or  desirable.  The 
fact  that  in  virtue  of  his  instinct  the  pessimist  finds  pleasure  in 
life  seems  to  undermine  the  basis  of  his  pseudo-rational  conviction 
that  life  is  evil  and  painful.  He  may  say  that  the  pleasures  of  life 
are  illusory.  What,  however,  can  be  the  meaning  of  these  words 
from  his  point  of  view  ? If  one  recognises  the  positive  meaning 
of  life  many  things  may  be  dismissed  as  illusory  in  comparison,  as 
drawing  our  attention  away  from  the  chief  thing.  St.  Paul  could 
say  that  by  comparison  with  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  which  is 
won  through  a life  of  renunciation,  all  carnal  affections  and 
pleasures  are  as  dung  and  rubbish  in  his  eyes.  But  a pessimist 
who  does  not  believe  in  a kingdom  of  heaven,  and  attaches  no 
positive  significance  to  a life  of  renunciation,  can  have  no  standard 
for  distinguishing  illusion  from  truth. 

From  this  point  of  view  everything  is  reduced  to  the  state  of 
pleasure  or  of  pain  which  is  being  actually  experienced  ; but  no 


PREFACE 


XVI 1 


pleasure  while  it  is  being  experienced  can  be  an  illusion.  The 
only  way  to  justify  pessimism  on  this  low  ground  is  childishly  to 
count  the  number  of  pleasures  and  pains  in  human  life,  assuming 
all  the  time  that  the  latter  are  more  numerous  than  the  former, 
and  that,  therefore,  life  is  not  worth  living.  This  calculus  of 
happiness  could  only  have  meaning  if  arithmetical  sums  of  pleasures 
and  pains  actually  existed,  or  if  the  arithmetical  difference  between 
them  could  itself  become  a sensation  ; since,  however,  in  actual 
reality  sensations  exist  only  in  the  concrete,  it  is  as  absurd  to 
reckon  them  in  abstract  figures  as  to  shoot  at  a stone  fortress  with 
a cardboard  gun.  If  the  only  motive  for  continuing  to  live  is  to 
be  found  in  the  surplus  of  the  pleasurable  over  the  painful  sensa- 
tions, then  for  the  vast  majority  of  men  this  surplus  is  a fact : 
men  live  and  find  that  life  is  worth  living.  With  them,  no  doubt, 
must  be  classed  such  theoreticians  of  pessimism  who  talk  of  the 
advantages  of  non-existence,  but  in  reality  prefer  any  kind  of 
existence.  Their  arithmetic  of  despair  is  merely  a play  of  mind 
which  they  themselves  contradict,  finding,  in  truth,  more  pleasure 
than  pain  in  life,  and  admitting  that  it  is  worth  living  to  the  end. 
From  comparing  their  theory  with  their  practice  one  can  only 
conclude  that  life  has  a meaning  and  that  they  involuntarily  sub- 
mit to  it,  but  that  their  intellect  is  not  strong  enough  to  grasp 
that  meaning. 

Pessimists  who  are  in  earnest  and  commit  suicide  also  involun- 
tarily prove  that  life  has  a meaning.  I am  thinking  of  conscious 
and  self-possessed  suicides,  who  kill  themselves  because  of  disap- 
pointment or  despair.  They  supposed  that  life  had  a certain 
meaning  which  made  it  worth  living,  but  became  convinced  that 
that  meaning  did  not  hold  good.  Unwilling  to  submit  passively 
and  unconsciously — as  the  theoretical  pessimists  do — to  a different 
and  unknown  meaning,  they  take  their  own  life.  This  shows,  no 
doubt,  that  they  have  a stronger  will  than  the  former,  but  proves 
nothing  as  against  the  meaning  of  life.  These  men  failed  to 
discover  it,  but  what  did  they  seek  it  in  ? There  are  two  types 

b 


xviii  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

of  passionate  men  among  them : the  passion  of  some  is  purely 
personal  and  selfish  (Romeo,  Werther),  that  of  others  is  connected 
with  some  general  interest  which,  however,  they  separate  from 
the  meaning  of  existence  as  a whole  (Cleopatra,  Cato  of  Utica). 
Neither  the  first  nor  the  second  care  to  know  the  meaning  of 
universal  life,  although  the  meaning  of  their  own  existence 
depends  upon  it.  Romeo  killed  himself  because  he  could  not 
have  Juliet.  The  meaning  of  life  for  him  was  to  possess  that 
woman.  If,  however,  this  really  were  the  meaning  of  life,  it 
would  be  wholly  irrational.  In  addition  to  Romeo  forty  thousand 
gentlemen  might  find  the  meaning  of  their  life  in  possessing  that 
same  Juliet,  so  that  this  supposed  meaning  would  forty  thousand 
times  contradict  itself.  Allowing  for  difference  in  detail,  we  find 
the  same  thing  at  the  bottom  of  every  suicide  : life  is  not  what  in 
my  opinion  it  ought  to  be,  therefore  life  is  senseless  and  is  not  worth 
living.  The  absence  of  correspondence  between  the  arbitrary 
demands  of  a passionate  nature  and  the  reality  is  taken  to  be  the 
result  of  some  hostile  fate,  terrible  and  senseless,  and  a man  kills 
himself  rather  than  submit  to  this  blind  force.  It  is  the  same  thing 
with  persons  belonging  to  the  second  type.  The  queen  of  Egypt, 
conquered  by  the  world-wide  power  of  Rome,  would  not  take  part 
in  the  conqueror’s  triumph,  and  killed  herself  by  means  of  a 
poisonous  snake.  Horace,  a Roman,  called  her  a great  woman  for 
doing  it,  and  no  one  would  deny  that  there  is  a grandeur  about 
her  death.  But  if  Cleopatra  was  looking  to  her  own  victory  as 
to  a thing  that  ought  to  be,  and  regarded  the  victory  of  Rome  as 
simply  the  senseless  triumph  of  an  irrational  force,  she,  too,  took 
her  own  blindness  to  be  a sufficient  reason  for  rejecting  the  truth 
of  the  whole. 

The  meaning  of  life  obviously  cannot  coincide  with  the 
arbitrary  and  changeable  demands  of  each  of  the  innumerable 
human  entities.  If  it  did,  it  would  be  non-meaning— that  is,  it 
would  not  exist  at  all.  It  follows,  therefore,  that  a disappointed 
and  despairing  suicide  was  not  disappointed  in  and  despaired  of  the 


PREFACE 


xix 


meaning  of  life,  but,  on  the  contrary,  of  his  hope  that  life  might 
be  meaningless.  He  had  hoped  that  life  would  go  in  the  way  he 
wanted  it  to,  that  it  would  always  and  in  everything  directly  satisfy 
his  blind  passions  and  arbitrary  whims,  i.e.  that  it  would  be  sense- 
less— of  that  he  was  disappointed  and  found  that  life  was  not  worth 
living.  But  the  very  fact  of  his  being  disappointed  at  the  world 
not  being  meaningless  proves  that  there  is  a meaning  in  it.  This 
meaning,  which  the  man  recognises  in  spite  of  himself,  may  be 
unbearable  to  him  ; instead  of  understanding  it  he  may  only  repine 
against  some  one  and  call  reality  by  the  name  of  a c hostile  fate,’ 
but  this  does  not  alter  the  case.  The  meaning  of  life  is  simply 
confirmed  by  the  fatal  failure  of  those  who  reject  it : some  of  them 
(the  theoretic  pessimists)  must  live  unworthily , in  contradiction  to 
their  own  preaching,  and  others  (the  practical  pessimists  or  the 
suicides)  in  denying  the  meaning  of  life  have  actually  to  deny 
their  own  existence.  Life  clearly  must  have  a meaning,  since 
those  who  deny  it  inevitably  negate  themselves,  some  by  their 
unworthy  existence,  and  others  by  their  violent  death. 


II 

“The  meaning  of  life  is  to  be  found  in  the  aesthetic  aspect  of 
it,  in  what  is  strong,  majestic,  beautiful.  To  devote  ourselves  to 
this  aspect  of  life,  to  preserve  and  strengthen  it  in  ourselves  and  in 
others,  to  make  it  predominant  and  develop  it  further  till  super- 
human greatness  and  new  purest  beauty  is  attained,  this  is  the 
end  and  the  meaning  of  our  existence.”  This  view,  associated  with 
the  name  of  the  gifted  and  unhappy  Nietzsche,  has  now  become  the 
fashionable  philosophy  in  the  place  of  the  pessimism  that  has  been 
popular  in  recent  years.  Unlike  the  latter,  it  does  not  require 
any  criticism  imported  from  outside,  but  can  be  disproved  on  its 
own  grounds.  Let  it  be  granted  that  the  meaning  of  life  is  to  be 
found  in  strength  and  beauty.  But,  however  much  we  may 
devote  ourselves  to  the  aesthetic  cult,  we  shall  find  in  it  no  protec- 


XX  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

tion,  nor  the  least  hope  of  protection,  against  the  general  and 
inevitable  fact  which  destroys  this  supposed  independence  of 
strength  and  beauty,  and  renders  void  the  divine  and  absolute 
character  they  are  alleged  to  possess.  I mean  the  fact  that 
the  end  of  all  earthly  strength  is  impotence,  and  the  end  of  all 
earthly  beauty  is  ugliness. 

When  we  speak  of  strength,  grandeur,  and  beauty  there  rises 
to  the  mind  of  every  one,  beginning  with  the  Russian  provincial 
schoolmaster  (see  Gogol’s  Inspector- General)  and  ending  with 
Nietzsche  himself,  one  and  the  same  image,  as  the  most  perfect 
historical  embodiment  of  all  these  aesthetic  qualities  taken  together. 
This  instance  is  sufficient. 

“And  it  happened  after  that  Alexander,  son  of  Philip,  the 
Macedonian,  who  came  out  of  the  land  of  Chittim,  had  smitten 
Darius,  King  of  the  Persians  and  Medes,  that  he  reigned  in  his 
stead,  the  first  over  Greece,  and  made  many  wars,  and  won  many 
strongholds,  and  slew  the  kings  of  the  earth,  and  went  through  to 
the  ends  of  the  earth,  and  took  spoils  of  many  nations,  insomuch 
that  the  earth  was  quiet  before  him,  whereupon  he  was  exalted,  and 
his  heart  was  lifted  up.  And  he  gathered  a mighty  strong  host, 
and  ruled  over  countries,  and  nations,  and  kings,  who  became 
tributaries  unto  him.  And  after  these  things  he  fell  sick,  and 
perceived  that  he  should  die  ” (Book  I.  of  the  Maccabees). 

Is  strength  powerless  before  death  really  strength  ? Is  a 
decomposing  body  a thing  of  beauty  ? The  ancient  pattern  of 
beauty  and  of  strength  died  and  decayed  like  the  weakest  and  most 
hideous  of  creatures,  and  the  modern  worshipper  of  beauty  and  of 
strength  became  in  his  lifetime  a mental  corpse.  Why  is  it  that 
the  first  was  not  saved  by  his  strength  and  beauty,  and  the  second 
by  his  cult  of  it  ? No  one  can  worship  a deity  which  saves 
neither  those  in  whom  it  is  incarnate,  nor  those  who  worship  it. 

In  his  last  works  the  unhappy  Nietzsche  turned  his  views  into 
a furious  weapon  against  Christianity.  In  doing  so  he  showed 
a low  level  of  understanding  befitting  French  free-thinkers  of 


PREFACE 


xxi 


the  eighteenth  century  rather  than  modern  German  savants.  He 
looked  upon  Christianity  as  belonging  exclusively  to  the  lower 
classes,  and  was  not  even  aware  of  the  simple  fact  that  the  Gospel 
was  from  the  first  received  not  as  a doubtful  call  to  rebellion  but 
as  a joyful  and  certain  message  of  sure  salvation , that  the  whole 
force  of  the  new  religion  lay  in  the  fact  that  it  was  founded  by 
c the  first  fruits  of  them  that  slept,’  who  had  risen  from  the  dead, 
and,  as  they  firmly  believed,  secured  eternal  life  to  His  followers. 
To  speak  of  slaves  and  pariahs  in  this  connection  is  irrelevant. 
Social  distinctions  mean  nothing  when  it  is  a question  of  death 
and  resurrection.  Do  not  ‘ the  gentle  ’ die  as  well  as  ‘ the  simple’  ? 
Were  not  Sulla  the  Roman  aristocrat  and  dictator,  Antioch  the 
king  of  Syria,  and  Herod  the  king  of  Judaea  eaten  up  by  worms 
while  still  alive  ? The  religion  of  salvation  cannot  be  the  religion 
for  slaves  and  ‘ Chandals  ’ alone — it  is  the  religion  for  all,  since  all 
need  salvation.  Before  beginning  to  preach  so  furiously  against 
equality,  one  ought  to  abolish  the  chief  equaliser — death. 

Nietzsche’s  polemic  against  Christianity  is  remarkably  shallow, 
and  his  pretension  to  be  c antichrist  ’ would  be  extremely  comical 
had  it  not  ended  in  such  tragedy.1 

The  cult  of  natural  strength  and  beauty  is  not  directly  opposed 
to  Christianity,  and  it  is  not  Christianity  that  makes  it  void,  but 
its  own  inherent  weakness.  Christianity  does  not  by  any  means 
reject  strength  and  beauty,  but  it  is  not  satisfied  with  the  strength 
of  a dying  invalid  or  the  beauty  of  a decomposing  corpse.  Chris- 
tianity has  never  preached  hostility  to  or  contempt  for  strength, 
grandeur,  or  beauty  as  such.  All  Christian  souls,  beginning  with 
the  first  of  them,  rejoiced  at  having  had  revealed  to  them  the  in- 
finite source  of  all  that  is  truly  strong  and  beautiful,  and  at  being 
saved  by  it  from  subjection  to  the  false  power  and  grandeur  of  the 
powerless  and  unlovely  elements  of  the  world.  “ My  soul  doth 
magnify  the  Lord,  and  my  spirit  hath  rejoiced  in  God  my  Saviour. 

1 It  will  be  remembered  that  after  passing  through  a mania  of  greatness  this  un- 
fortunate writer  fell  into  complete  idiocy. 


xx ii  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

. . . For  He  that  is  mighty  hath  done  to  me  great  things  ; and  holy 
is  His  name.  . . . He  hath  shewed  strength  with  his  arm  ; He 
hath  scattered  the  proud  in  the  imagination  of  their  hearts.  He 
hath  put  down  the  mighty  from  their  seats,  and  exalted  them  of 
low  degree.  He  hath  filled  the  hungry  with  good  things,  and 
the  rich  He  hath  sent  empty  away.”  It  is  obvious  that  the  con- 
tempt here  is  only  for  the  false,  imaginary  strength  and  wealth, 
and  that  humility  is  not  the  absolute  ideal  or  the  final  end  but 
only  the  necessary  and  the  right  way  to  heights  unattainable  to 
the  proud. 

Strength  and  beauty  are  divine,  but  not  in  themselves  : there 
is  a strong  and  beautiful  Deity  whose  strength  is  never  exhausted 
and  whose  beauty  never  dies,  for  in  Him  strength  and  beauty  are 
inseparable  from  the  good. 

No  one  worships  impotence  and  ugliness  ; but  some  believe 
in  the  eternal  strength  and  beauty  which  are  conditioned  by  the 
good  and  which  actually  liberate  their  bearers  and  worshippers 
from  the  power  of  death  and  corruption,  while  others  extol  strength 
and  beauty  taken  in  the  abstract  and  fictitious.  The  first 
doctrine  may  be  waiting  for  its  final  victory  in  the  future,  but 
this  does  not  make  things  any  better  for  the  second  ; it  is  con- 
quered already,  it  is  always  being  conquered — it  dies  with  every 
death  and  is  buried  in  all  the  cemeteries. 

Ill 

The  pessimism  of  false  philosophers  and  of  genuine  suicides 
inevitably  leads  us  to  recognise  that  life  has  a meaning.  The 
cult  of  strength  and  beauty  inevitably  shows  that  that  meaning 
is  not  to  be  found  in  strength  and  beauty  as  such,  but  only  as 
conditioned  by  the  triumphant  good.  The  meaning  of  life  is  in 
the  good  ; but  this  opens  the  way  for  new  errors  in  the  definition 
of  what  precisely  we  are  to  understand  by  the  good. 

At  first  sight  there  appears  to  be  a sure  and  simple  way  of 


PREFACE 


xxiii 

avoiding  any  errors  in  this  connection.  If,  it  will  be  urged,  the 
meaning  of  life  is  the  good,  it  has  revealed  itself  to  us  already  and 
does  not  wait  for  any  definition  on  our  part.  All  we  have  to  do 
is  to  accept  it  with  love  and  humility,  and  subordinate  to  it  our 
existence  and  our  individuality,  in  order  to  make  them  rational. 
The  universal  meaning  of  life  or  the  inner  relation  of  separate 
entities  to  the  great  whole  cannot  have  been  invented  by  us ; it 
was  given  from  the  first.  The  firm  foundations  of  the  family 
have  been  laid  down  from  all  eternity  ; the  family  by  a living, 
personal  bond  connects  the  present  with  the  past  and  the  future  ; 
the  fatherland  widens  our  mind  and  gives  it  a share  in  the  glorious 
traditions  and  aspirations  of  the  soul  of  the  nation  ; the  Church, 
by  connecting  both  our  personal  and  our  national  life  with  what 
is  absolute  and  eternal,  finally  liberates  us  from  the  limitations  of 
a cramped  existence.  What,  then,  is  there  to  trouble  about  ? 
Live  in  the  life  of  the  whole,  widen  on  all  sides  the  limits  of  your 
small  self,  ‘take  to  heart’  the  interests  of  others  and  the  interest 
of  all,  be  a good  member  of  the  family,  a zealous  patriot,  a loyal 
son  of  the  Church,  and  you  will  know  the  good  meaning  of  life 
in  practice  and  have  no  need  to  seek  for  it  and  look  for  its  defini- 
tion. There  is  an  element  of  truth  in  this  view,  but  it  is  only 
the  beginning  of  truth.  It  is  impossible  to  stop  at  this — the  case 
is  not  so  simple  as  it  looks. 

Had  life  with  its  good  meaning  assumed  at  once,  from  all 
eternity,  one  unchanging  and  abiding  form,  then  there  would 
certainly  be  nothing  to  trouble  about.  There  would  be  no  prob- 
lem for  the  intellect,  but  only  a question  for  the  will — to  accept 
or  unconditionally  to  reject  that  which  has  been  unconditionally 
given.  This  was  precisely,  as  I understand  it,  the  position  of  one 
of  the  spirits  of  light  in  the  first  act  of  the  creation  of  the  world. 
But  our  human  position  is  less  fateful  and  more  complex.  We 
know  that  the  historical  forms  of  the  Good  which  are  given  to  us 
do  not  form  such  a unity  that  we  could  either  accept  or  reject 
them  as  a whole.  We  know  also  that  these  forms  and  principles 


xxiv  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

of  life  did  not  drop  down  ready  made  from  heaven  but  were 
developed  in  time  and  on  earth.  And  knowing  that  they  had 
become  what  they  are,  we  have  no  rational  ground  whatever  for 
affirming  that  they  are  finally  and  wholly  fixed,  and  that  what  is 
given  at  the  moment  is  entirely  completed  and  ended.  But  if 
it  is  not  ended,  it  is  for  us  to  carry  on  the  work.  In  the 
times  prior  to  ours  the  higher  forms  of  life — now  the  holy 
heritage  of  the  ages — did  not  come  to  be  of  themselves  but  were 
evolved  through  men,  through  their  thought  and  action,  through 
their  intellectual  and  moral  work.  Since  the  historical  form  of 
the  eternal  good  is  not  one  and  unchanging,  the  choice  has  to  be 
made  between  many  different  things,  and  this  cannot  be  done 
without  the  critical  work  of  thought.  It  must  have  been 
ordained  by  God  Himself  that  man  should  have  no  external 
support,  no  pillow  for  his  reason  and  conscience  to  rest  on,  but 
should  ever  be  awake  and  standing  on  his  own  legs.  “What  is  man, 
that  Thou  art  mindful  of  him  ? and  the  son  of  man,  that  Thou 
visitest  him  ? ” Piety  itself  forbids  us  to  despise  in  ourselves  and 
in  others  that  which  God  Himself  respects,  for  the  sake  of  which 
He  remembers  and  visits  us — namely,  the  inner,  unique,  and 
invaluable  dignity  of  man’s  reason  and  conscience.  And  those 
who  are  guilty  of  such  contempt  and  seek  to  replace  the  inner 
standard  of  truth  by  an  external  one,  suffer  natural  retribution  in 
the  fatal  failure  of  their  attempt.  The  concrete,  clear,  and 
consistent  minds  among  them — minds  that  cannot  be  content 
with  vague  phrases  — accomplish  with  remarkable  rapidity  a 
direct  descent  from  the  certain  to  the  doubtful,  from  the  doubt- 
ful to  the  false,  and  from  the  false  to  the  absurd.  “ God,” 
they  argue,  “manifests  His  will  to  man  externally  through 
the  authority  of  the  Church  ; the  only  true  Church  is  our 
Church,  its  voice  is  the  voice  of  God  ; the  true  representatives  of 
our  Church  are  the  clergy,  hence  their  voice  is  the  voice  of  God  ; 
the  true  representative  of  the  clergy  for  each  individual  is  his 
confessor  ; therefore  all  questions  of  faith  and  conscience  ought 


PREFACE 


XXV 


in  the  last  resort  to  be  decided  for  each  by  his  confessor.”  It  all 
seems  clear  and  simple.  The  only  thing  to  be  arranged  is  that 
all  confessors  should  say  the  same  thing,  or  that  there  should  be 
one  confessor  only — omnipresent  and  immortal.  Otherwise,  the 
difference  of  opinion  among  many  changing  confessors  may  lead  to 
the  obviously  impious  view  that  the  voice  of  God  contradicts  itself. 

As  a matter  of  fact,  if  this  individual  or  collective  repre- 
sentative of  external  authority  derives  his  significance  merely 
from  his  official  position,  all  persons  in  the  same  position  have 
the  same  authority  which  is  rendered  void  by  their  contradicting 
one  another.  And  if,  on  the  other  hand,  one  or  some  of 
them  derive  their  superior  authority  in  my  eyes  from  the  fact  of 
my  confidence  in  them,  it  follows  that  I myself  am  the  source  and 
the  creator  of  my  highest  authority,  and  that  I submit  to  my 
own  arbitrary  will  alone  and  find  in  it  the  meaning  of  life.  This 
is  the  inevitable  result  of  seeking  at  all  costs  an  external  support  for 
reason,  and  of  taking  the  absolute  meaning  of  life  to  be  some- 
thing that  is  imposed  upon  man  from  without.  The  man 
who  wants  to  accept  the  meaning  of  life  on  external  authority 
ends  by  taking  for  that  meaning  the  absurdity  of  his  own 
arbitrary  choice.  There  must  be  no  external,  formal  relation 
between  the  individual  and  the  meaning  of  his  life.  The  ex- 
ternal authority  is  necessary  as  a transitory  stage,  but  it  must  not 
be  preserved  for  ever  and  regarded  as  an  abiding  and  final  norm. 
The  human  ego  can  only  expand  by  giving  inner  heartfelt  re- 
sponse to  what  is  greater  than  itself,  and  not  by  rendering  merely 
formal  submission  to  it,  which  after  all  really  alters  nothing. 

IV 

Although  the  good  meaning  of  life  is  greater  than  and  prior 
to  any  individual  man,  it  cannot  be  accepted  as  something  ready 
made  or  taken  on  trust  from  some  external  authority.  It  must  be 
understood  by  the  man  himself  and  be  made  his  own  through 


xxv i THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

faith,  reason,  and  experience.  This  is  the  necessary  condition 
of  a morally-worthy  existence.  When,  however,  this  necessary 
subjective  condition  of  the  good  and  rational  life  is  taken  to  be  its 
essence  and  purpose,  the  result  is  a new  moral  error,  namely,  the 
rejection  of  all  historical  and  collective  manifestations  and  forms 
of  the  good,  of  everything  except  the  inner  moral  activities  and 
states  of  the  individual.  This  moral  amorphism  or  subjectivism  is 
the  direct  opposite  of  the  doctrine  of  the  conservative  practical 
humility  just  referred  to.  That  doctrine  affirmed  that  life  and 
reality  in  their  given  condition  are  wiser  and  better  than  man, 
that  the  historical  forms  which  life  assumes  are  in  themselves 
good  and  wise,  and  that  all  man  has  to  do  is  reverently  to  bow 
down  before  them  and  to  seek  in  them  the  absolute  rule  and 
authority  for  his  personal  existence.  Moral  amorphism,  on  the 
contrary,  reduces  everything  to  the  subjective  side,  to  our  own 
self-consciousness  and  self-activity.  The  only  life  for  us  is  our 
own  mental  life  ; the  good  meaning  of  life  is  to  be  found  solely 
in  the  inner  states  of  the  individual  and  in  the  actions  and  rela- 
tions which  directly  and  immediately  follow  therefrom.  This 
inner  meaning  and  inner  good  is  naturally  inherent  in  every  one, 
but  it  is  crushed,  distorted,  and  made  absurd  and  evil  by  the 
different  historical  developments  and  institutions  such  as  the  state, 
the  Church,  and  civilisation  in  general.  If  every  one’s  eyes  were 
open  to  the  true  state  of  things,  people  would  be  easily  persuaded 
to  renounce  these  disastrous  perversions  of  human  nature  which 
are  based  in  the  long  run  upon  compulsory  organisations,  such  as 
the  law,  the  army,  etc.  All  these  institutions  are  kept  up  by 
intentional  and  evil  deceit  and  violence  on  the  part  of  the 
minority,  but  their  existence  chiefly  depends  upon  the  lack  of 
understanding  and  self-deception  of  the  majority  which,  besides, 
employ  various  artificial  means  for  blunting  their  reason  and  con- 
science— wine,  tobacco,  etc.  Men,  however,  are  beginning  to 
realise  the  error  of  their  ways,  and  when  they  finally  give  up  their 
present  views  and  change  their  conduct,  all  evil  forms  of  human 


PREFACE 


XXVI 1 


relations  will  fall  to  the  ground  ; evil  will  disappear  as  soon  as 
men  cease  to  resist  it  by  force,  and  the  moral  good  will  be 
spontaneously  manifested  and  realised  among  the  formless  mass  of 
4 tramping  ’ saints. 

In  its  rejection  of  different  institutions  moral  amorphism  for- 
gets one  institution  which  is  rather  important — namely,  death, 
and  it  is  this  oversight  which  alone  renders  the  doctrine  plausible. 
For  if  the  preachers  of  moral  amorphism  were  to  think  of  death 
they  would  have  to  affirm  one  of  two  things : either  that  with  the 
abolition  of  the  law  courts,  armies,  etc.,  men  will  cease  to  die,  or 
that  thegood  meaning  of  life,incompatiblewith  political  kingdoms, 
is  quite  compatible  with  the  kingdom  of  death.  The  dilemma  is 
inevitable,  and  both  alternatives  to  it  are  equally  absurd.  It  is 
clear  that  this  doctrine,  which  says  nothing  about  death,  contains 
it  in  itself.  It  claims  to  be  the  rehabilitation  of  true  Christianity. 
It  is  obvious,  however,  both  from  the  historical  and  from  the 
psychological  point  of  view,  that  the  Gospel  did  not  overlook 
death.  Its  message  was  based  in  the  first  place  upon  the  resurrec- 
tion of  one  as  an  accomplished  fact,  and  upon  the  future  resurrec- 
tion of  all  as  a certain  promise.  Universal  resurrection  means  the 
creation  of  a perfect  form  for  all  that  exists.  It  is  the  ultimate 
expression  and  realisation  of  the  good  meaning  of  the  universe, 
and  is  therefore  the  final  end  of  history.  In  recognising  the 
good  meaning  of  life  but  rejecting  all  its  objective  forms,  moral 
amorphism  must  regard  as  senseless  the  whole  history  of  the  world 
and  humanity,  since  it  entirely  consists  in  evolving  new  forms  or 
life  and  making  them  more  perfect.  There  is  sense  in  rejecting 
one  form  of  life  for  the  sake  of  another  and  a more  perfect  one, 
but  there  is  no  meaning  in  rejecting  form  as  such.  Yet  such 
rejection  is  the  logical  consequence  of  the  anti-historical  view. 
If  we  absolutely  reject  the  forms  of  social,  political,  and  religious 
life,  evolved  by  human  history,  there  can  be  no  ground  for  recog- 
nising the  organic  forms  worked  out  by  the  history  of  nature  or 
by  the  world  process,  of  which  the  historical  process  is  the  direct 


xxviii  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

and  inseparable  continuation.  Why  should  my  animal  body  be 
more  real,  rational,  and  holy  than  the  body  of  my  nation  ? It 
will  be  said  that  the  body  of  a people  does  not  exist,  any  more 
than  its  soul,  that  the  idea  of  a social  collective  organism  is  merely 
a metaphor  for  expressing  the  totality  of  distinct  individuals. 
If,  however,  this  exclusively  mechanical  point  of  view  be  once 
adopted,  we  are  bound  to  go  further  still  and  say  that  in  reality 
there  is  no  individual  organism  and  no  individual  soul,  and  that 
what  exists  are  merely  the  different  combinations  of  elementary 
particles  of  matter,  devoid  of  all  qualitative  content.  If  the  prin- 
ciple of  form  be  denied,  we  are  logically  bound  to  give  up  the 
attempt  to  understand  and  to  recognise  either  the  historical  or 
the  organic  life  or  any  existence  whatever,  for  it  is  only  pure 
nothing  that  is  entirely  formless  and  unconditional. 

V 

I have  indicated  two  extreme  moral  errors  that  are  contra- 
dictory of  one  another.  One  is  the  doctrine  of  the  self-effacement 
of  the  human  personality  before  the  historical  forms  of  life  recog- 
nised as  possessing  external  authority, — the  doctrine  of  passive 
submission  or  practical  quietism  ; the  other  is  the  doctrine  of 
the  self-affirmation  of  the  human  personality  against  all  historical 
forms  and  authorities — the  doctrine  of  formlessness  and  anarchy. 
The  common  essence  of  the  two  extreme  views,  that  in  which, 
in  spite  of  the  opposition  between  them,  they  agree,  will  no  doubt 
disclose  to  us  the  source  of  moral  errors  in  general,  and  will  save 
us  from  the  necessity  of  analysing  the  particular  varieties  of  moral 
falsity  which  may  be  indefinite  in  number. 

The  two  opposed  views  coincide  in  the  fact  that  neither  of 
them  take  the  good  in  its  essence,  or  as  it  is  in  itself  but  connect 
it  with  acts  and  relations  which  may  be  either  good  or  evil  accord- 
ing to  their  motive  and  their  end.  In  other  words,  they  take 
something  which  is  good,  but  which  may  become  evil,  and  they 


PREFACE 


XXIX 


put  it  in  the  place  of  the  Good  itself,  treating  the  conditioned  as  the 
unconditional.  Thus,  for  instance,  it  is  a good  thing  and  a moral 
duty  to  submit  to  national  and  family  traditions  and  institutions 
in  so  far  as  they  express  the  good  or  give  a definite  form  to  my 
right  relation  to  God,  men,  and  the  world.  If,  however,  this 
condition  is  forgotten,  if  the  conditional  duty  is  taken  to  be 
absolute  and  ‘ the  national  interest  ’ is  put  in  the  place  of  God’s 
truth,  the  good  may  become  evil  and  a source  of  evil.  It  is 
easy  in  that  case  to  arrive  at  the  monstrous  idea  recently  put 
forth  by  a French  minister:  “It  is  better  to  execute  twenty 
innocent  men  than  to  attack  ( porter  atteinte ) the  authority  of  a 
national  institution.”  Take  another  instance.  Suppose  that  in- 
stead of  paying  due  respect  to  a council  of  bishops  or  to  some 
other  ecclesiastical  authority,  as  a true  organ  of  the  collective 
organisation  of  piety,  from  which  I do  not  separate  myself, — 1 
submit  to  it  unconditionally,  without  going  into  the  case  for 
myself.  I assume  that  this  particular  council  as  such  is  an  unfailing 
authority,  that  is,  I recognise  it  in  an  external  way.  And  then 
it  turns  out  that  the  council  to  which  I submitted  was  the  Robber 
Council  of  Ephesus,  or  something  of  the  kind,  and  that  owing  to 
my  wrong  and  uncalled-for  submission  to  the  formal  expression 
of  the  supposed  will  of  God,  I have  myself  suddenly  become  a 
rebellious  heretic.  Once  more  evil  has  come  out  of  the  good. 
Take  a third  instance.  Not  trusting  the  purity  of  my  conscience 
and  the  power  of  my  intellect,  I entrust  both  my  conscience  and 
reason  to  a person  vested  with  divine  authority  and  give  up 
reasoning  and  willing  for  myself.  One  would  think  nothing 
could  be  better.  But  my  confessor  proves  to  be  a wolf  in  sheep’s 
clothing,  and  instils  in  me  pernicious  thoughts  and  evil  rules. 
Once  more,  the  conditional  good  of  humility,  accepted  uncon- 
ditionally, becomes  an  evil. 

Such  are  the  results  of  the  erroneous  confusion  of  the  good 
itself  with  the  particular  forms  in  which  it  is  manifested.  The 
opposite  error,  which  limits  the  nature  of  the  good  by  rejecting 


xxx  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

the  historical  forms  of  its  expression,  comes  to  the  same  thing. 
In  the  first  case  the  forms  or  institutions  are  taken  to  be  the 
absolute  good,  which  does  not  correspond  to  truth  and  leads  to 
evil.  In  the  second  case  these  forms  and  institutions  are  un- 
conditionally rejected,  and  therefore  are  recognised  as  uncon- 
ditionally evil,  which  is  again  contrary  to  the  truth,  and  can- 
not therefore  lead  to  anything  good.  The  first  maintain,  for 
instance,  that  the  will  of  God  is  revealed  to  us  through  the  priest 
only  ; the  second  affirm  that  this  never  happens,  that  the  Supreme 
will  cannot  speak  to  us  through  the  priest,  but  is  revealed  solely 
and  entirely  in  our  own  consciousness.  It  is  obvious,  however, 
that  in  both  cases  the  will  of  God  has  been  left  out  of  account  and 
replaced,  in  the  first  instance,  by  the  priest,  and  in  the  second  by 
the  self-affirming  ego.  And  yet  one  would  think  there  could  be 
no  difficulty  in  understanding  that  once  the  will  of  God  is 
admitted  its  expression  ought  not  to  be  restricted  to  or  ex- 
hausted by  the  deliverances  either  of  the  inner  consciousness  or 
of  the  priest.  The  will  of  God  may  speak  both  in  us  and  in  him, 
and  its  only  absolute  and  necessary  demand  is  that  we  should  in- 
wardly conform  to  it  and  take  up  a good  or  right  attitude  to 
everything,  including  the  priest,  and  indeed  putting  him  before 
other  things  for  the  sake  of  what  he  represents.  Similarly,  when 
the  first  say  that  the  practical  good  of  life  is  wholly  contained  in 
the  nation  and  the  state,  and  the  second  declare  the  nation  and 
the  state  to  be  a deception  and  an  evil,  it  is  obvious  that  the  first 
put  into  the  place  of  the  absolute  good  its  conditional  manifesta- 
tions in  the  nation  and  the  state,  and  the  second  limit  the 
absolute  good  by  rejecting  its  historical  forms.  In  their  view  the 
rejection  is  unconditional,  and  the  good  is  conditioned  by  it. 
But  it  ought  to  be  obvious  that  the  true  good  in  this  sphere 
depends  for  us  solely  upon  our  just  and  good  relation  to  the  nation 
and  to  the  state , upon  the  consciousness  of  our  debt  to  them, 
upon  the  recognition  of  all  that  they  have  contained  in  the  past 
and  contain  now,  and  of  what  they  must  still  acquire  before  they 


PREFACE 


XXXI 


can  become  in  the  full  sense  the  means  of  embodying  the  good 
that  lives  in  humanity.  It  is  possible  for  us  to  take  up  this  just 
attitude  to  the  Church,  the  nation,  and  the  state,  and  thus  to 
render  both  ourselves  and  them  more  perfect ; we  can  know  and 
love  them  in  their  true  sense,  in  God’s  way.  Why,  then,  should 
we  distort  this  true  sense  by  unconditional  worship,  or,  worse  still, 
by  unconditional  rejection  ? There  is  no  reason  why,  instead  of 
doing  rightful  homage  to  the  sacred  forms,  and  neither  separating 
them  from,  nor  confusing  them  with,  their  content,  we  should 
pass  from  idolatry  to  iconoclasm,  and  from  it  to  a new  and  worse 
idolatry. 

There  is  no  justification  for  these  obvious  distortions  of  the 
truth,  these  obvious  deviations  from  the  right  way.  It  is  as  clear 
as  day  that  the  only  thing  which  ought  to  be  unconditionally 
accepted  is  that  which  is  intrinsically  good  in  itself,  and  the  only 
thing  which  ought  to  be  rejected  is  that  which  is  wholly  and 
essentially  evil,  while  all  other  things  ought  to  be  either  accepted 
or  rejected  according  to  their  actual  relation  to  this  inner  essence 
of  good  or  evil.  It  is  clear  that  if  the  good  exists  it  must  possess 
its  own  inner  definitions  and  attributes,  which  do  not  finally  depend 
upon  any  historical  forms  and  institutions,  and  still  less  upon  the 
rejection  of  them. 

The  moral  meaning  of  life  is  originally  and  ultimately  deter- 
mined by  the  good  itself,  inwardly  accessible  to  us  through  our 
reason  and  conscience  in  so  far  as  these  inner  forms  of  the  good 
are  freed  by  moral  practice  from  slavery  to  passions  and  from  the 
limitations  of  personal  and  collective  selfishness.  This  is  the 
ultimate  court  of  appeal  for  all  external  forms  and  events.  “ Know 
ye  not  that  we  shall  judge  angels  ? ” St.  Paul  writes  to  the  faithful. 
And  if  even  the  heavenly  things  are  subject  to  our  judgment,  this 
is  still  more  true  of  all  earthly  things.  Man  is  in  principle  or  in 
his  destination  an  unconditional  inner  form  of  the  good  as  an  uncon- 
ditional content ; all  else  is  conditioned  and  relative.  The  good 
as  such  is  not  conditioned  by  anything,  but  itself  conditions  all 


xxxii  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

things,  and  is  realised  through  all  things.  In  so  far  as  the  good 
is  not  conditioned  by  anything,  it  is  pure  ; in  so  far  as  it  con- 
ditions all  things,  it  is  all-embracing  ; and  in  so  far  as  it  is  realised 
through  all  things,  it  is  all-powerful. 

If  the  good  were  not  pure,  if  it  were  impossible  in  each  practical 
question  to  draw  an  absolute  distinction  between  good  and  evil, 
and  in  each  particular  case  to  say  jw  or  «<?,  life  would  be  altogether 
devoid  of  moral  worth  and  significance.  If  the  good  were  not  all- 
embracing,  if  it  were  impossible  to  connect  with  it  all  the  concrete 
relations  of  life,  to  justify  the  good  in  all  of  them,  and  to  correct 
them  all  by  the  good,  life  would  be  poor  and  one-sided.  Finally, 
if  the  good  had  no  power,  if  it  could  not  in  the  end  triumph  over 
everything,  including  ‘ the  last  enemy  death,’ — life  would  be  in 
vain. 

The  inner  attributes  of  the  good  determine  the  main  problem 
of  human  life  ; its  moral  meaning  is  to  be  found  in  the  service  or 
the  pure,  all-powerful,  and  all-embracing  good. 

To  be  worthy  of  its  object  and  of  man  himself,  such  service 
must  be  voluntary , and  in  order  to  be  that  it  must  be  conscious. 
It  is  the  business  of  moral  philosophy  to  make  it  an  object  of 
reflective  consciousness,  and  partly  to  anticipate  the  result  which 
our  reflection  must  attain.  The  founder  of  moral  philosophy  as  a 
science , Kant,  dwelt  upon  the  first  essential  attribute  of  the  absolute 
good,  its  purity,  which  demands  from  man  a formally  uncon- 
ditional or  autonomous  will.  The  pure  good  demands  that  it 
should  be  chosen  for  its  own  sake  alone  ; any  other  motives  are 
unworthy  of  it.  Without  repeating  what  Kant  has  done  so  well 
with  regard  to  the  question  of  the  formal  purity  of  the  good  will, 
I have  paid  particular  attention  to  the  second  essential  attribute  of 
the  good,  namely,  its  all-embracing  character.  In  doing  so  I did 
not  separate  it  from  the  other  two  attributes  (as  Kant  had  done 
with  regard  to  the  first),  but  directly  developed  the  rational  and 
ideal  content  of  the  all-embracing  good  out  of  the  concrete  moral 
data  in  which  it  is  contained.  As  a result,  I obtained  not  the 


PREFACE 


XXXlll 


dialectical  moments  of  the  abstract  Idea,  as  in  Hegel,  nor  the 
empirical  complications  of  natural  facts,  as  in  Herbert  Spencer,  but 
complete  and  exhaustive  moral  norms  for  all  the  fundamental 
practical  relations  of  the  individual  and  the  collective  life.  It  is 
its  all-embracing  character  alone  which  justifies  the  good  to  our 
consciousness  ; it  is  only  in  so  far  as  it  conditions  all  things  that 
it  can  manifest  both  its  purity  and  its  invincible  power. 


VLADIMIR  SOLOVYOF. 


I 


CONTENTS 


Editor.’?  Note  ...... 

Preface  to  the  Second  Edition  .... 

Preface  to  the  First  Edition  [A  Preliminary  Conception  of  the 
Moral  Meaning  of  Life)  ..... 

The  General  Question  as  to  the  Meaning  of  Life  : 

I.  Two  ways  of  denying  the  meaning  of  life. — Theoretical 
pessimism. — The  inner  inconsistency  of  persons  who  argue  about 
the  advantages  of  non-existence,  but  in  truth  prefer  existence. — 
The  fact  that  they  cling  to  life  proves  that  life  has  a meaning 
though  they  do  not  understand  it. — Practical  pessimism  which 
finds  its  final  expression  in  suicide.— Suicides  also  involuntarily 
prove  that  life  has  a meaning,  for  their  despair  is  due  to  the  fact 
that  life  does  not  fulfil  their  arbitrary  and  contradictory  demands. 
These  demands  could  only  be  fulfilled  if  life  were  devoid  of 
meaning  ; the  non-fulfilment  proves  that  life  has  a meaning  which 
these  persons,  owing  to  their  irrationality,  do  not  wish  to  know 
(instances  : Romeo,  Cleopatra)  ..... 

II.  The  view  that  life  has  an  exclusively  aesthetic  meaning, 
which  expresses  itself  in  whatever  is  strong,  majestic,  beautiful, 
without  relation  to  the  moral  good. — This  view  is  unanswerably 
refuted  by  the  fact  of  death,  which  transforms  all  natural  strength 
and  greatness  into  nothingness,  and  all  natural  beauty  into  utter 
ugliness  (explanation  : words  of  the  Bible  about  Alexander  of 
Macedon).  — Nietzsche’s  pitiful  attacks  on  Christianity. — True 
strength,  grandeur,  and  beauty  are  inseparable  from  the  absolute 
good  ........ 

III.  The  view  which  admits  that  the  meaning  of  life  is  to  be 
found  in  the  good,  but  affirms  that  this  good,  as  given  from  above, 
and  realised  in  forms  of  life  laid  down  once  for  all  (family,  father- 
land,  Church),  merely  demands  that  man  should  submit  to  it 
without  asking  any  questions. — The  insufficiency  of  this  view, 
which  forgets  that  the  historical  forms  of  the  good  possess  no 
external  unity  and  finality. — Man  therefore  must  not  submit  to 


xxxv 


xxxvi  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


PAGE 


them  implicitly,  but  must  know  their  nature  and  further  their 
growth  and  development  ......  xxiii 

IV.  The  opposite  error  (moral  amorphism),  which  asserts  that 
the  good  is  to  be  found  only  in  the  subjective  mental  states  of 
each  individual  and  in  the  good  relations  between  men  which 
naturally  follow  therefrom,  and  that  all  collectively  organised 
forms  of  society  lead  to  nothing  but  evil,  since  they  are  artificial 
and  make  use  of  compulsion. — But  the  social  organisation  brought 
about  by  the  historical  life  of  humanity  is  the  necessary  continua- 
tion of  the  physical  organisation  brought  about  by  the  life  of  the 
universe. — All  that  is  real  is  complex,  nothing  exists  apart  from 
this  or  that  form  of  collective  organisation  ; and  the  principle  of 
moral  amorphism  consistently  worked  out,  logically  demands  the 
rejection  of  all  that  is  real  for  the  sake  of  emptiness  or  non-being  . xxv 

V.  The  two  extreme  forms  of  moral  error — the  doctrine  of 
absolute  submission  to  the  historical  forms  of  social  life  and  the 
doctrine  of  their  unconditional  rejection  (moral  amorphism) — 
coincide  in  so  far  as  neither  of  them  takes  the  good  as  such,  and 
both  regard  as  unconditionally  right  or  as  unconditionally  wrong 
things  which  in  their  nature  are  conditional  (explanatory  examples). 

—Man  in  his  reason  and  conscience  as  the  unconditional  inner 
form,  the  unconditional  content  of  which  is  the  good. — -The 
general  inner  properties  of  the  good  as  such  : its  purity  or 
autonomy,  in  so  far  as  it  is  not  conditioned  by  anything  external 
to  it  ; its  fulness  or  its  all-embracing  character  in  so  far  as  it  con- 
ditions everything  ; its  power  or  actuality,  in  so  far  as  it  is  realised 
through  all  things.— The  purpose  of  moral  philosophy,  and 
especially  of  the  system  put  forward  in  the  present  work  . . xxviii 


INTRODUCTION 

Moral  Philosophy  as  a Science. 

I.  The  formal  universality  of  the  idea  of  the  good  at  the  lower 
stages  of  moral  consciousness  independently  of  its  material  content 
(examples  and  explanations). — The  growth  of  moral  consciousness, 
gradually  introducing  into  the  formal  idea  of  t'he  good  a more 
befitting  content  which  is  more  connected  with  it  inwardly, 
naturally  becomes  the  science  of  Ethics  or  Moral  Philosophy  . i 

II.  Moral  philosophy  does  not  wholly  depend  upon  positive 
religion. — St.  Paul’s  testimony  as  to  the  moral  law  ‘ written  in  the 
hearts  ’ of  the  Gentiles. — Since  there  exist  many  religions  and 
denominations,  disputes  between  them  presuppose  a common 
ground  of  morality  (explanations  and  examples),  and,  consequently, 


CONTENTS 


XXXVll 


the  moral  norms  to  which  the  disputing  parties  appeal  cannot 
depend  upon  their  religious  and  denominational  differences  . 3 

III.  The  independence  of  the  moral  from  the  theoretical 

philosophy  (from  epistemology  and  metaphysics). — In  moral 
philosophy  we  study  our  inner  attitude  to  our  own  actions  (and 
that  which  is  logically  connected  with  it),  i.e.  something  unquestion- 
ably knowable  by  us,  since  it  is  produced  by  ourselves  ; the  dis- 
puted question  as  to  the  theoretical  certainty  concerning  other 
kinds  of  being,  not  connected  with  us  morally,  is  in  this  respect 
irrelevant. — The  critique  of  knowledge  can  go  no  further  than 
doubt  the  objective  existence  of  that  which  is  known,  and  such 
theoretical  doubt  is  insufficient  to  undermine  the  morally  practical 
certitude  that  certain  states  and  actions  of  the  subject  are  binding 
as  possessed  of  inner  worth. — Besides,  theoretical  philosophy  itself 
overcomes  such  scepticism  in  one  way  or  another. — Finally,  even 
if  it  were  possible  to  be  perfectly  certain  of  the  non-existence  of 
the  external  world,  the  inner  distinction  between  good  and  evil 
would  not  thereby  be  abolished  ; for  if  it  be  wrong  to  bear  malice 
against  a human  being,  it  is  still  more  so  against  an  empty  phantom  ; 
if  it  be  shameful  slavishly  to  surrender  to  the  promptings  of  actual 
sensuality,  to  be  slave  to  an  imaginary  sensuality  is  worse  still  . 9 

IV.  Moral  philosophy  does  not  depend  upon  the  affirmative 

answer  to  the  metaphysical  question  of  ‘ free  will,’  since  morality 
is  possible  on  the  hypothesis  of  determinism,  which  asserts  that 
human  actions  have  a necessary  character. — In  philosophy  we 
must  distinguish  the  purely  mechanical  necessity,  which  in  itself 
is  incompatible  with  any  moral  action,  from  the  psychological 
and  the  ethical  or  the  rationally  ideal  necessity. — The  unquestion- 
able difference  between  mechanical  movement  and  a mental  reaction 
necessarily  called  forth  by  motives,  i.e.  by  presentations  associated 
with  feelings  and  desires. — Difference  in  the  quality  of  motives  that 
prevail  in  the  life  of  this  or  of  that  individual  enables  us  to  dis- 
tinguish a good  spiritual  nature  from  a bad  one,  and,  in  so  far  as 
a good  nature,  as  we  know  from  experience,  can  be  consciously 
strengthened  and  developed,  and  a bad  consciously  corrected  and 
reformed,  we  are  given  in  the  domain  of  psychological  necessity 
itself  certain  conditions  for  ethical  problems  and  theories  . . 14 

V.  In  the  case  of  man,  the  universal  rational  idea  of  the  good, 
expressing  itself  as  the  consciousness  of  absolute  duty  to  conform 
to  it,  may  become  the  prevailing  motive  of  action,  over  and  above 
different  psychological  impulses.  Man  may  do  good  quite  irre- 
spectively of  considerations  of  pleasure  and  pain,  for  the  sake  of 
the  good  as  such  or  of  the  unconditionally  excellent. — -The  con- 
ception of  moral  necessity  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  of  rational 
freedom. — Just  as  the  psychological  necessity  (due  to  mental  affec- 
tions) is  superior  to  mechanical  necessity,  and  means  freedom  from 


xxxviii  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


it,  so  the  moral  necessity  (due  to  the  idea  of  the  good  as  the  pre- 
vailing motive),  while  remaining  necessary,  is  superior  to  the 
psychological  necessity  of  mental  affections,  and  means  freedom 
from  the  lower  motives. — In  order  that  the  absolute  idea  of  the 
good  should  be  a sufficient  ground  for  human  action,  the  subject 
must  have  a sufficient  degree  of  moral  receptivity  and  a sufficient 
knowledge  of  the  good  (explanations  and  Biblical  examples). — It 
is  metaphysically  possible  that  absolute  evil  may  be  arbitrarily  pre- 
ferred to  the  absolute  good. — Moral  philosophy,  being  a complete 
knowledge  of  the  good,  is  presupposed  in  the  correct  formulation 
and  solution  of  the  metaphysical  question  concerning  the  freedom 
of  choice  between  good  and  evil,  and  its  content  does  not  depend 
upon  the  solution  of  that  question  . . . .17 

PART  I 

THE  GOOD  IN  HUMAN  NATURE 

CHAPTER  I 

The  Primary  Data  of  Morality. 

I.  The  feeling  of  shame  (originally  of  sexual  modesty)  as  the 

natural  root  of  human  morality. — Actual  shamelessness  of  all  animals 
and  the  supposed  shamelessness  of  certain  savage  peoples  ; the  latter 
indicates  difference  in  external  relations  and  not  in  the  feeling 
itself.- — Darwin’s  erroneous  inference  from  phallism  . . 25 

II.  The  profound  meaning  of  shame  : that  which  is  ashamed 
in  the  mental  act  of  shame  separates  itself  from  that  of  which  it 
is  ashamed.  In  being  ashamed  of  the  fundamental  process  of  his 
animal  nature,  man  proves  that  he  is  not  merely  a natural  event  or 
phenomenon,  but  has  an  independent  super-animal  significance  (con- 
firmation and  explanation  out  of  the  Bible).  The  feeling  of  shame 

is  inexplicable  from  the  external  and  the  utilitarian  point  of  view.  28 

III.  The  second  moral  datum  of  human  nature — pity  or  the 
sympathetic  feeling  which  expresses  man’s  moral  relation  not  to 
the  lower  nature  (as  in  shame)  but  to  living  beings  like  himself. — 

Pity  cannot  be  the  result  of  human  progress,  for  it  exists  among 
the  animals  also.- — Pity  is  the  individual  psychological  root  of  the 
right  social  relations  . . . . . .32 

IV.  The  third  moral  datum  of  human  nature — the  feeling  of 
reverence  or  of  piety , which  expresses  man’s  due  relation  to  the 


CONTENTS 


XXXIX 


higher  principle  and  constitutes  the  individual  psychological  root 
of  religion. — Darwin’s  reference  to  the  rudiments  of  religious  feel- 
ing in  tame  animals  ...... 

V.  The  feelings  of  shame,  pity,  and  reverence  exhaust  the 
whole  range  of  moral  relations  possible  for  man,  namely,  of  rela- 
tions to  that  which  is  below  him,  on  a level  with  him,  and  above  him. 
— These  normal  relations  are  determined  as  the  mastery  over  material 
sensuality,  as  the  solidarity  with  other  living  beings,  and  as  the  inner 
submission  to  the  superhuman  principle. — Other  determinations  of 
moral  life — all  the  virtues — may  be  shown  to  be  modifications  of 
these  three  fundamental  facts,  or  as  a result  of  the  interaction 
between  them  and  the  intellectual  nature  of  man  (example) 

VI.  Conscience  as  a modification  of  shame  in  a definite  and 
generalised  form. — The  supposed  conscience  of  animals  . 

VII.  From  the  fundamental  facts  of  morality  human  reason 

deduces  universal  and  necessary  principles  and  rules  of  the  moral 
life  ........ 


CHAPTER  II 

The  Ascetic  Principle  in  Morality. 

I.  The  moral  self-affirmation  of  man  as  a supermateriai  being, 
half-conscious  and  unstable  in  the  simple  feeling  of  shame,  is,  by 
the  activity  of  reason,  raised  into  the  principle  of  asceticism. — 
Asceticism  is  not  directed  against  the  material  nature  in  general  : 
that  nature  cannot,  as  such,  be  recognised  as  evil  from  any  point  of 
view  (proofs  from  the  chief  pessimistic  doctrines— the  Vedanta,  the 
Sankhya,  Buddhism,  Egyptian  gnosis,  Manicheism) 

II.  The  opposition  of  the  spiritual  principle  to  the  material 

nature,  finding  its  immediate  expression  in  the  feeling  of  shame  and 
developed  in  asceticism,  is  called  forth  not  by  the  material  nature 
as  such,  but  by  the  undue  preponderance  of  the  lower  life,  which 
seeks  to  make  the  rational  being  of  man  into  a passive  instrument  or 
a useless  appendage  of  the  blind  physical  process.- — In  analysing  the 
meaning  of  shame,  reason  logically  deduces  from  it  a necessary, 
universal,  and  morally  binding  norm  : the  physical  life  of  man 
must  be  subordinate  to  the  spiritual  .... 

III.  The  moral  conception  of  spirit  and  of  flesh. — Flesh  as 
excited  animality  or  irrationality,  false  to  its  essential  definition 
to  serve  as  the  matter  or  the  potential  basis  of  the  spiritual 
life. — Real  significance  of  the  struggle  between  the  spirit  and 
the  flesh  ........ 

IV.  Three  chief  moments  in  the  conflict  of  the  spirit  with  the 
flesh  : (i)  inner  distinction  of  the  spirit  from  the  flesh  ; (2)  actual 


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41 

44 

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xl  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

struggle  of  the  spirit  for  its  independence  ; (3)  clear  preponder- 
ance of  the  spirit  over  the  flesh  or  abolition  of  the  evil  carnal 
element. — Practical  importance  of  the  second  moment,  which  gives 
rise  to  the  definite  and  binding  demands  of  morality  and,  in  the 
first  place,  to  the  demand  for  self-control  .... 

V.  Preliminary  tasks  of  asceticism  : acquisition  by  the  rational 
will  of  the  power  to  control  breathing  and  sleep  . 

VI.  Ascetic  demands  with  regard  to  the  functions  of  nutrition 
and  reproduction. — Misunderstandings  concerning  the  question  of 
sexual  relations. — Christian  view  of  the  matter 

VII.  Different  aspects  of  the  struggle  between  the  spirit  and 
the  flesh. — The  three  psychological  moments  in  the  victory  of  the 
evil  principle  : thought,  imagination,  possession. — The  correspond- 
ing ascetic  rules  intended  to  prevent  an  evil  mental  state  from 
becoming  a passion  and  a vice  : “dashing  of  the  babes  of  Babylon 
against  the  stones  ” ; thinking  of  something  different  ; performing 
a moral  action  ....... 

VIII.  Asceticism,  or  abstinence  raised  into  a principle,  is 
unquestionably  good.— When  this  good  is  taken,  as  such,  to  be 
the  whole  good,  we  have  evil  asceticism  after  the  pattern  of  the 
devil,  who  neither  eats  nor  drinks,  and  remains  in  celibacy. — Since 
an  evil  or  pitiless  ascetic,  being  an  imitator  of  the  devil,  does  not 
deserve  moral  approbation,  it  follows  that  the  principle  of  asceticism 
itself  has  a moral  significance  or  is  good  only  on  condition  of 
its  being  united  with  the  principle  of  altruism,  which  has  its  root 
in  pity  ........ 


CHAPTER  III 


Pity  and  Altruism. 

I.  The  positive  meaning  of  pity. — Just  as  shame  singles  man 
out  from  the  rest  of  nature  and  opposes  him  to  other  animals, 
so  pity  inwardly  connects  him  with  the  whole  world  of  the 
living  ........ 

II.  The  inner  basis  of  the  moral  relation  to  other  beings  is  to  be 
found,  apart  from  all  metaphysical  theories,  in  compassion  or  pity 
only,  and  not  in  co-pleasure  or  co-rejoicing. — Positive  participation 
in  the  pleasure  of  another  contains  the  approval  of  that  pleasure, 
which  may,  however,  be  evil. — Participation  in  it  may  therefore  be 
good  or  evil  according  to  the  object  of  the  pleasure. — Since  the  co- 
rejoicing may  itself  be  immoral,  it  cannot  in  any  case  be  the  basis 
of  moral  relations. — Answer  to  certain  objections  . 

III.  Pity  as  a motive  of  altruistic  action  and  as  a possible  basis 
of  altruistic  principles  ...... 


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54 

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59 

60 
63 


CONTENTS 


IV.  Schopenhauer’s  theory  of  the  irrational  or  mysterious 

character  of  compassion  in  which,  it  is  urged,  there  is  an  immediate 
and  perfect  identification  of  one  entity  with  another,  foreign  to  it. — 
Criticism  of  this  view.— In  the  fundamental  expression  of  compas- 
sion— the  maternal  instinct  of  animals — the  intimate  real  connec- 
tion between  the  being  who  pities  and  the  object  of  its  pity  is 
obvious. — Speaking  generally,  the  natural  connection  given  in 
reason  and  experience  between  all  living  beings  as  parts  of  one 
whole  sufficiently  explains  its  psychological  expression  in  pity, 
which  thus  completely  corresponds  to  the  clear  meaning  of  the 
universe,  is  compatible  with  reason,  or  is  rational. — The  erroneous 
conception  of  pity  as  of  an  immediate  and  complete  identification 
of  two  beings  (explanations)  ..... 

V.  Infinite  universal  pity  described  by  St.  Isaac  the  Syrian 

VI.  Pity  as  such  is  not  the  only  foundation  of  all  morality, 
as  Schopenhauer  mistakenly  asserts. — Kindness  to  living  beings 
is  compatible  with  immorality  in  other  respects. — Just  as  ascetics 
may  be  hard  and  cruel,  so  kind-hearted  people  may  be  intemperate 
and  dissolute,  and,  without  doing  direct  and  intentional  evil, 
injure  both  themselves  and  their  neighbours  by  their  shameful 
behaviour  ........ 

VII.  The  true  essence  of  pity  is  not  simple  identification  of 
oneself  with  another,  but  the  recognition  of  another  person’s  inner 
worth — of  his  right  to  existence  and  to  the  greatest  possible  happi- 
ness.— The  conception  of  pity,  taken  in  its  universality  and  inde- 
pendently of  subjective  mental  states  connected  with  it  ( i.e . taken 
logically  and  not  psychologically),  is  the  conception  of  truth  and  of 
justice  : it  is  true  that  other  people  are  similar  to  me  and  have  the 
same  nature,  and  it  is  just  that  my  relation  to  them  should  be  the 
same  as  my  relation  to  myself. — Altruism  corresponds  to  truth  or 
to  that  which  is,  while  egoism  presupposes  untruth  or  that  which 
is  not,  for  in  reality  an  individual  self  does  not  possess  the  exclusive 
and  all-important  significance  which  it  egoistically  assigns  to  itself. 
— The  expansion  of  personal  egoism  into  the  family,  national, 
political,  and  religious  egoism  is  a sign  of  historical  progress  of 
morality,  but  does  not  disprove  the  false  principle  of  egoism,  which 
contradicts  the  absolute  truth  of  the  altruistic  principle 

VIII.  Two  rules — of  justice  (to  injure  no  one)  and  of  mercy  (to 
help  every  one) — that  follow  from  the  principle  of  altruism. — The 
mistaken  division  and  opposition  of  mercy  and  of  justice,  which  are 
in  truth  merely  the  differen-uspects  or  manifestations  of  one  and 
the  same  moral  motive. — The  moral  principle  in  the  form  of  justice 
does  not  demand  the  material  or  qualitative  equality  of  all  indi- 
vidual and  collective  subjects.  It  merely  demands  that  in  the 
presence  of  all  the  necessary  and  desirable  differences  there  should 
be  preserved  something  that  is  unconditional  and  the  same  for  all, 


xlii  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


PAGE 


namely,  the  significance  of  each  as  an  end  in  himself,  and  not 
merely  as  a means  for  the  purposes  of  others  . . .74 


CHAPTER  IV 

The  Religious  Principle  in  Morality. 

I.  The  peculiarity  of  the  religiously-moral  determinations. — 

Their  root  is  in  the  normal  relation  of  children  to  parents,  based 
upon  an  inequality  which  cannot  be  reduced  to  justice  or  deduced 
from  pity  : a child  immediately  recognises  the  superiority  of  his 
parents  to  himself  and  his  dependence  upon  them,  feels  reverence  for 
them  and  the  necessity  of  obeying  them  (explanation)  . . 77 

II.  The  original  germ  of  religion  is  neither  fetishism  (proof), 

nor  naturalistic  mythology  (proof),  but  pietas  erga  parentes — first  in 
relation  to  the  mother  and  then  to  the  father  . . .80 

III.  The  religious  relation  of  children  to  parents  as  to  their 

immediate  providence  becomes  more  complex  and  is  spiritualised, 
passing  into  reverence  for  the  departed  parents,  lifted  above  ordinary 
surroundings  and  possessed  of  mysterious  power  ; the  father  in  his 
lifetime  is  only  a candidate  for  a god,  and  a mediator  and  priest 
of  the  real  god — of  the  dead  grandparent  or  ancestor. — The  char- 
acter and  significance  of  ancestor-worship  (illustrations  from  the 
beliefs  of  ancient  peoples)  . . . . . .82 

IV.  Whatever  the  difference  in  the  religious  conceptions  and 

manner  of  worship  may  be, — from  the  primitive  cult  of  tribal 
ancestors  up  to  the  Christian  worship  in  spirit  and  in  truth  of  the 
one  universal  Heavenly  Father, — the  moral  essence  of  religion 
remains  the  same.  A savage  cannibal  and  a perfect  saint,  in  so  far 
as  both  are  religious,  are  at  one  in  their  filial  relation  to  the  higher 
and  in  their  resolution  to  do  not  their  own  will  but  the  will  of  the 
Father. — Such  natural  religion  is  the  inseparable  part  of  the  law 
written  in  our  hearts,  and  without  it  a rational  fulfilment  of  other 
demands  of  morality  is  impossible  . . . . 85 

V.  Supposed  godlessness  or  impiety  (example). — Cases  of  real 
impiety,  i.e.  of  not  recognising  anything  superior  to  oneself,  are  as 
little  proof  against  the  principle  as  piety  and  its  binding  character, 
as  the  actual  existence  of  shameless  and  pitiless  people  is  a proof 
against  the  duties  of  abstinence  and  kindness.- — Apart  from  our 
having  or  not  having  any  positive  beliefs,  we  must , as  rational 
beings,  admit  that  the  life  of  the  world  and  our  own  life  has  a 
meaning,  and  that  therefore  everything  depends  upon  a supreme 
rational  principle  towards  which  we  must  adopt  a filial  attitude, 
submitting  all  our  actions  to  ‘ the  will  of  the  Father,’  that  speaks 
to  us  through  reason  and  conscience 


87 


CONTENTS 


xliii 


VI.  In  the  domain  of  piety,  as  of  all  morality,  higher  demands 
do  not  cancel  the  lower,  but  presuppose  and  include  them  (examples). 

— Our  real  dependence  upon  the  one  Father  of  the  universe  is  not 
immediate,  in  so  far  as  our  existence  is  determined  in  the  first 
instance  by  heredity,  i.e.  by  our  ancestors,  and  the  environment 
created  by  them. — Since  the  Supreme  Will  has  determined  our 
existence  through  our  ancestors,  we  cannot,  in  bowing  down  before 
Its  action,  be  indifferent  to  Its  instruments  (explanations). — The 
moral  duty  of  reverence  to  providential  men  . . 89 


CHAPTER  V 

Virtues. 

I.  Three  general  aspects  of  morality  : •virtue  (in  the  narrow 

sense — as  a good  natural  quality),  norm  or  the  rule  of  good  actions, 
and  moral  good  as  the  consequence  of  them. — The  indissoluble 
logical  connection  between  these  three  aspects  permits  us  to  re- 
gard the  whole  content  of  morality  under  the  first  term — as  a 
virtue  (in  the  wide  sense)  . . . . . .92 

II.  Virtue  as  man’s  right  relation  to  everything.  Right 

relation  is  not  an  equal  relation  (explanation). — Since  man  is 
neither  absolutely  superior  nor  absolutely  inferior  to  everything 
else,  nor  unique  of  his  kind,  but  is  conscious  of  himself  as  an 
intermediary  being  and  one  of  many  intermediary  beings,  it  follows 
with  logical  necessity  that  the  moral  norms  have  a triple  character, 
or  that  there  are  three  fundamental  virtues  in  the  proper  sense  of 
the  term. — These  are  always  alike  in  all,  since  they  express  the 
essential  moral  quality,  determined  in  the  right  way  and  giving 
rise  to  right  determinations. — All  the  other  so-called  virtues  are 
merely  qualities  of  the  will  and  manners  of  action  which  have  no 
moral  determination  within  themselves  and  no  constant  corre- 
lation with  the  law  of  duty,  and  may  therefore  be  sometimes 
virtues,  sometimes  indifferent  states,  and  sometimes  vices  (explana- 
tions and  examples)  ...  93 

III.  Moral  valuation  depends  upon  our  right  attitude  to  the 
object  and  not  upon  the  psychological  quality  of  volitional  and 
emotional  states. — The  analysis — from  this  point  of  view — of 
the  so-called  cardinal  or  philosophical  virtues,  and  especially 
of  justice. — It  is  understood  as  rectitudo,  as  aequitas,  as  justitia, 
and  as  legalitas. — In  the  first  sense — of  what  is  right  in  general 
— it  goes  beyond  the  boundaries  of  ethics  ; in  the  second,  of  im- 
partiality, and  in  the  third — of  ‘injuring  no  one’ — justice  corre- 
sponds to  the  general  principle  of  altruism  (since  the  rules  ‘injure 
no  one  ’ and  ‘ help  all  ’ are  inseparable)  ; in  the  fourth  sense — of 


xliv  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

absolute  submission  to  existing  laws — justice  is  not  in  itself  a virtue, 
but  may  or  may  not  be  according  to  circumstances  (classical 
examples  : Socrates,  Antigone)  ..... 

IV.  The  so-called  ‘theological  virtues’  have  moral  worth  not 
unconditionally  and  in  themselves,  but  in  relation  to  other  facts. — 
Faith  is  a virtue  only  on  three  conditions  : (i)  that  its  object  is  real ; 
(2)  that  it  has  worth  ; (3)  that  the  relation  of  faith  to  its  real  and 
worthy  object  is  a worthy  one  (explanations). — Such  faith  coincides 
with  true  piety. — The  same  is  true  of  hope. — The  positive  com- 
mandment of  love  is  conditioned  by  the  negative  : do  not  love  the 
world,  nor  all  that  is  in  the  world  (demand  for  abstinence  or  the 
principle  of  asceticism). — Love  to  God  coincides  with  true  piety, 
and  love  to  our  neighbours  with  pity. — Thus  love  is  not  a virtue, 
but  the  culminating  expression  of  all  the  fundamental  demands  of 
morality  in  the  three  necessary  respects  : in  relation  to  the  higher, 
to  the  lower,  and  to  the  equal  ..... 

V.  Magnanimity  and  disinterestedness  as  modifications  of 

ascetic  virtue. — Liberality  as  a special  manifestation  of  altruism. — 
The  different  moral  significance  of  patience  and  tolerance,  accord- 
ing to  the  object  and  the  situation  . . 

VI.  Truthfulness. — Since  speech  is  the  instrument  of  reason  for 
expressing  the  truth,  misuse  (in  lying  and  deception)  of  this  formal 
and  universally-human  means  for  selfish  and  material  ends  is  shame- 
ful for  the  person  who  lies,  insulting  and  injurious  to  the  persons 
deceived,  and  contrary  to  the  two  fundamental  moral  demands  of 
respect  for  human  dignity  in  oneself  and  of  justice  to  others. — 
Consistently  with  the  conception  of  truth,  the  reality  of  a parti- 
cular external  fact  must  not  be  arbitrarily  separated  from  the 
moral  significance  of  the  given  situation  as  a whole. — Difference 
between  material  falsity  and  moral  falsehood. — Detailed  analysis  of 
the  question  as  to  whether  it  is  permissible  to  save  a man’s  life  by 
verbally  deceiving  the  murderer  ..... 

VII.  The  conception  of  truth  or  rightness  unites  in  a supreme 
synthesis  the  three  fundamental  demands  of  morality,  in  so  far  as 
one  and  the  same  truth  demands  from  its  very  nature  a different 
attitude  to  our  lower  nature  (the  ascetic  attitude),  to  our  neighbours 
(the  altruistic  attitude),  and  to  the  supreme  principle  (the  religious 
attitude). — Opposition  between  the  absolute  inner  necessity  or  the 
binding  nature  of  truth  and  its  accidental  and  conditional  character 
as  a sufficient  motive  of  human  actions. — Hence  the  desire  to  re- 
place the  conception  of  the  moral  good  or  the  unconditional  duty 
by  the  conception  of  happiness  or  of  the  unconditionally  desirable 


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CONTENTS 
CHAPTER  VI 

The  Spurious  Basis  of  Moral  Philosophy  {A  Critique  of 
Abstract  Hedonism  in  its  Different  Forms). 

I.  In  so  far  as  the  (moral)  good  is  not  desired  by  a person  and 
is  not  regarded  by  him  as  desirable,  it  is  not  a good  for  him  ; in  so 
far  as  it  is  regarded  by  him  as  desirable,  but  does  not  determine  his 
will,  it  is  not  an  actual  good  for  him  ; in  so  far  as  it  determines  his 
will  but  does  not  give  him  the  power  to  realise  in  the  whole  world 
that  which  ought  to  be,  it  is  not  a sufficient  good. — Owing  to  such 
empirical  discrepancy  the  good  is  regarded  as  distinct  from  the 
right,  and  is  understood  as  welfare  (eudaemonia). — The  obvious 
advantage  that  the  eudaemonic  principle  has  over  the  purely  moral 
one  is  that  welfare  is  from  the  very  definition  of  it  desirable  for  all. 
— The  nearest  definition  of  welfare  is  pleasure,  and  eudaemonism 
becomes  hedonism  ....... 

II.  The  weakness  of  hedonism. — Universality  involved  in  the 
conception  of  pleasure  is  formal  and  logical  or  abstract  only,  and 
does  not  express  any  definite  and  actual  unity,  and  therefore  supplies 
no  general  principle  or  rule  of  action. — Man  may  find  real  pleasure 
in  things  which  he  knows  lead  to  destruction,  i.e.  in  things  which 
are  most  undesirable. — Transition  from  pure  hedonism  to  extreme 
pessimism  (Hygesias  of  Cyrenae — ‘the  advocate  of  death  ’) 

III.  Analysis  of  pleasure. — What  is  really  desired  (or  is  an 
object  of  desire)  are  certain  represented  realities  and  not  the 
pleasurable  sensations  aroused  by  them  (proof). — The  desirability 
of  certain  objects  or  their  significance  as  a good  depends  not  upon 
the  subjective  pleasurable  states  that  follow,  but  upon  the  known 
or  unknown  objective  relation  of  these  objects  to  our  bodily  or 
mental  nature. — Pleasure  as  an  attribute  of  the  good. — From  this 
point  of  view  the  highest  welfare  consists  in  possessing  such  good 
things  which  in  their  totality  or  as  a final  result  give  the  maximum 
of  pleasure  and  the  minimum  of  pain — the  chief  practical  signifi- 
cance here  belongs  not  to  pleasure  as  such,  but  to  a careful  con- 
sideration of  the  consequences  of  this  or  of  that  line  of  conduct  ; 
prudent  hedonism  ....... 

IV.  If  the  final  end  is  welfare,  the  whole  point  is  the  actual 
attainment  and  the  secure  possession  of  it  ; neither  the  one  nor 
the  other,  however,  may  be  ensured  by  prudence  (proof). — The 
insufficiency  of  ideal  (intellectual  and  aesthetic)  pleasures  from  the 
hedonistic  point  of  view. — Since  pleasures  are  not  abiding  quan- 
tities which  can  be  added  together,  but  merely  transitory  subjective 
states  which,  when  past,  cease  to  be  pleasures,  the  advantage  of 
prudent  hedonism  over  reckless  enjoyment  of  life  is  apparent  only 


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xlvi  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

V.  Self-sufficient  Hedonism,  whose  principle  is  the  inner  freedom 
from  desires  and  affections  which  render  man  unhappy. — Being 
purely  negative,  such  freedom  can  only  be  a condition  of  obtaining 
a higher  good  and  not  that  good  itself  .... 

VI.  Utilitarianism  affirms  as  a supreme  practical  principle 

the  service  of  the  common  good  or  of  general  happiness,  which 
coincides  with  individual  happiness  rightly  understood. — Utili- 
tarianism is  mistaken  not  in  its  practical  demands,  in  so  far  as 
they  correspond  with  the  demands  of  altruistic  morality,  but  in  its 
desire  to  base  these  demands  upon  egoism,  contrary  to  the  testimony 
of  experience  (self-sacrifice  of  individual  entities  to  the  genus 
among  animals  and  savage  races;  ‘struggle  for  the  life  of 
others  ’)  . 

VII.  It  is  logically  erroneous  to  establish  the  connection  utili- 
tarianism establishes  between  personal  gain  and  general  happiness. 
— General  weakness  of  utilitarianism  and  all  hedonism. — Happi- 
ness remains  an  indefinite  and  unrealisable  demand , to  which  the 
moral  demand  of  the  good  as  duty  is  in  every  respect  superior. 
— Transition  to  Part  II. 

PART  II 

THE  GOOD  IS  FROM  GOD 

CHAPTER  I 

The  Unity  of  Moral  Principles. 

I.  Conscience  and  shame  ..... 

II.  The  feeling  of  shame,  primarily  and  fundamentally  con- 
nected with  the  sexual  life,  transcends  the  boundaries  of  the 
material  existence,  and,  as  the  expression  of  formal  disapprobation, 
accompanies  every  violation  of  the  moral  law  in  all  spheres  of  activity 

III.  For  an  animal  entity  the  infinity  of  life  is  given  in  geni- 
talibus  only,  and  the  entity  in  question  feels  and  acts  as  a limited, 
passive  means  or  instrument  of  the  generic  process  in  its  bad  in- 
finity ; and  it  is  here,  in  this  centre  of  the  natural  life,  that  man 
becomes  conscious  that  the  infinity  of  the  genus,  in  which  the  animal 
finds  its  supreme  destination,  is  insufficient. — The  fact  that  man  is 
chiefly  and  primarily  ashamed  of  the  very  essence  of  the  animal 
life,  of  the  fundamental  expression  of  the  physical  nature,  directly 
proves  him  to  be  a super-animal  and  super-natural  being. — In  sexual 
shame  man  becomes  human  in  the  full  sense  of  the  term  . 


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CONTENTS 


xlvii 


IV.  The  eternal  life  of  the  genus  based  upon  the  eternal  death 
of  individual  entities  is  shameful  and  unsatisfactory  to  man,  who 
both  wants,  and  feels  it  his  duty,  to  possess  eternal  life,  and  not 
merely  to  be  its  instrument. — The  true  genius 

V.  The  path  of  animal  procreation  or  of  the  perpetration  of 
death,  felt  at  the  beginning  to  be  shameless,  proves  subsequently 
to  be  both  pitiless  and  impious  : it  is  pitiless,  for  it  means  the  ex- 
pulsion or  the  crowding  out  of  one  generation  by  another,  and  it 
is  impious  because  the  expelled  are  our  fathers 

VI.  Child-bearing  as  a good  and  as  an  evil. — The  solution  of 
the  antinomy  : in  so  far  as  the  evil  of  child-bearing  may  be 
abolished  by  child-bearing  itself,  it  becomes  a good  (explanation)  . 

VII.  The  positive  significance  of  the  ecstasy  of  human  love. — 

It  points  to  the  hidden  wholeness  of  the  individual  and  to  the  way 
of  making  it  manifest. — Uselessness  of  the  ecstasy  of  love  for 
animal  procreation  ...... 

VIII.  The  essential  inner  connection  between  shame  and  pity. 
Both  are  a reaction  of  the  hidden  wholeness  of  the  human  being 
against  (i)  its  individual  division  into  sexes  ; and  (2)  a further 
division — resulting  from  that  first  one — of  humanity  into  a number 
of  conflicting  egoistic  entities  (shame  as  individual  and  pity  as 
social  continence)  ....... 

IX.  The  same  is  true  with  regard  to  (3)  piety  as  religious  con- 

tinence which  opposes  man’s  separation  from  the  absolute  centre 
of  life  ........ 

X.  The  one  essence  of  morality  is  the  wholeness  of  man  rooted 

in  his  nature  as  an  abiding  norm,  and  realised  in  the  individual 
and  historical  life  as  right-doing  and  struggle  with  the  centrifugal 
and  dividing  forces. — The  norm-preserving  element  in  shame.— 
Modifications  of  the  original  (sexual)  shame : conscience  as 
essentially  inter-human  shame,  and  the  fear  of  God  as  religious 
shame  ........ 

XI.  In  so  far  as  the  wholeness  of  the  human  being  (attained 
in  three  directions)  becomes  a fact,  the  good  coincides  with  happi- 
ness.— Since  true  happiness  is  conditioned  by  the  moral  good,  the 
ethics  of  pure  duty  cannot  be  opposed  to  eudaemonism  in  general, 
which  necessarily  enters  into  it. — Human  good  fails  to  give  com- 
plete satisfaction  and  happiness  simply  because  it  itself  is  never 
complete  and  is  never  fully  realised  (explanations) 

XII.  To  be  truly  autonomous  the  good  must  be  perfect,  and 

such  a good  is  bound  to  involve  happiness. — If  the  good  and  happi- 
ness are  wrongly  understood,  empirical  cases  of  virtue  coinciding 
or  not  coinciding  with  happiness  are  of  no  moral  interest 
whatever  (instances)  ...... 

XIII.  Critical  remarks  concerning  the  insufficiency  of  Kantian 
ethics  ........ 


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141 

142 

143 
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146 

150 

152 

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xlviii  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


XIV.  Kant’s  religious  postulates  ill-founded. — Reality  of  the 
super-human  good,  proved  by  the  moral  growth  of  humanity 


CHAPTER  II 

The  Unconditional  Principle  of  Morality. 

I.  Morality  and  the  world  of  fact. — In  shame  man  actually 
separates  himself  off  from  material  nature ; in  pity  he  actually 
manifests  his  essential  connection  with  and  similarity  to  other 
living  beings  ....... 

II.  In  religious  feeling  the  Deity  is  experienced  as  the  actuality 
of  the  perfect  good  ( = happiness)  unconditionally  and  entirely 
realised  in  itself. — The  general  basis  of  religion  is  the  living 
experience  of  the  actual  presence  of  the  Deity,  of  the  One  which 
embraces  all  (explanation)  ...... 

III.  The  reality  of  God  is  not  a deduction  from  religious  ex- 
perience but  its  immediate  content— that  which  is  experienced. — 
Analysis  of  this  content,  as  of  a given  relation  of  man  to  God, 
from  the  point  of  view  of  (i)  the  difference  between  them  (‘the 
dust  of  the  earth’  in  us)  ; (2)  their  ideal  connection  (‘the  image 
of  God  ’ in  us)  ; and  (3)  their  real  connection  (‘  the  likeness  of  God  ’ 
in  us). — The  complete  religious  relation  is  logically  resolvable  into 
three  moral  categories:  (1)  imperfection  in  us;  (2)  perfection  in 
God  ; (3)  attaining  perfection  as  the  task  of  our  life 

IV.  The  psychological  confirmation  : ‘joy  in  the  Holy  Spirit’ 
as  the  highest  expression  of  religion. — The  formally  moral  aspect 
of  the  religious  relation. — The  duty  ‘ to  be  perfect,’  its  ideal  exten- 
sion and  practical  significance — ‘ become  perfect  ’ . 

V.  Three  kinds  of  perfection  : (1)  that  which  unconditionally 
is  in  God  ( actus  purus ) ; (2)  that  which  potentially  is  in  the  soul ; 
(3)  that  which  actually  comes  to  be  in  the  history  of  the  world. — 
Proof  of  the  rational  necessity  of  the  process.  A mollusc  or  a 
sponge  cannot  express  human  thought  and  will,  and  a biological 
process  is  necessary  for  creating  a more  perfect  organism  ; in 
like  manner  the  supreme  thought  and  will  (the  Kingdom 
of  God)  cannot  be  revealed  among  semi -animals,  and  requires 
the  historical  process  of  making  the  forms  of  life  more 
perfect  ........ 

VI.  The  necessity  of  the  universal  process  which  follows  from 

the  unconditional  principle  of  the  good. — The  world  as  a system 
of  preliminary  material  conditions  for  the  realisation  of  the 
kingdom  of  ends. — The  moral  freedom  of  man  as  the  final  condition 
of  that  realisation  ....  . . 


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CONTENTS 


xlix 


VII.  The  demands  of  religious  morality  : ‘ have  God  in  you  ’ 
and  ‘ regard  everything  in  God’s  way.’ — God’s  relation  to  evil. — 

The  full  form  of  the  categorical  imperative  as  the  expression  of 

the  unconditional  principle  of  morality  . . . 173 

VIII.  The  higher  degrees  of  morality  do  not  abolish  the  lower, 
but  when  being  realised  in  history  presuppose  them  and  are  based 

upon  them. — Pedagogical  aspect  of  the  matter  . . .174 

IX.  Natural  altruism  becomes  deeper,  higher,  and  wider  in 
virtue  of  the  unconditional  principle  of  morality. — The  determining 
power  of  that  principle  in  relation  to  collective  historical  institu- 
tions intended  for  serving  the  good. — Our  highest  duty  is  not  to 
serve  these  institutions  uncritically  (since  they  may  fail  to  fulfil  their 
destination),  but  to  help  them  to  serve'  the  good  or,  if  they  swerve 

from  the  right  course,  to  point  out  their  true  duties  . .176 

X.  When  man’s  relation  to  the  Deity  is  raised  to  the  level  of 

absolute  consciousness,  the  preserving  feeling  of  continence  (shame, 
conscience,  fear  of  God)  is  finally  seen  to  safeguard  not  the  relative 
but  the  absolute  dignity  of  man — his  ideal  perfection  which  is  to 
be  realised. — Ascetic  morality  is  now  seen  to  have  a positive 
eschatological  motive,  namely,  to  re-create  our  bodily  nature  and 
make  it  the  destined  abode  of  the  Holy  Spirit  . . .178 


CHAPTER  III 

The  Reality  of  the  Moral  Order. 

I.  Since  the  reality  of  the  spiritual  is  inseparable  from  the 
reality  of  the  material,  the  process — to  be  considered  by  moral 
philosophy — whereby  the  universe  attains  perfection,  being  the 
process  of  manifestation  of  God  in  man,  must  necessarily  be 
the  process  of  manifestation  of  God  in  matter. — The  series  of  the 
concrete  grades  of  being  most  clearly  determined  and  characteristic 
from  the  point  of  view  of  moral  purpose  realised  in  the  world- 
process — the  five  ‘kingdoms’:  the  mineral  or  inorganic,  the 
vegetable,  the  animal,  the  naturally  human,  and  the  spiritually 
human  or  the  kingdom  of  God. — Description  and  definition  of 
them. — Their  external  interrelation  : inorganic  substances  nourish 
the  life  of  plants,  animals  exist  at  the  expense  of  the  vegetable 
kingdom,  men  at  the  expense  of  animals,  and  the  kingdom  of  God 
consists  of  men  (explanations). — The  general  character  of  the 
ascent  : just  as  a living  organism  consists  of  chemical  substance 
which  has  ceased  to  be  mere  substance,  so  natural  humanity  con- 
sists of  animals  who  have  ceased  to  be  mere  animals,  and  the  king- 
dom of  God  consists  of  men  who  have  ceased  to  be  merely  human 


1 


THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


PAGE 


but  have  entered  into  a new  and  higher  plan  of  existence  where 
their  purely  human  objects  become  the  means  and  instruments  of 
another,  final  purpose  . . . . . .180 

II.  The  stone  exists  ; the  plant  exists  and  lives  ; the  animal, 
in  addition  to  this,  is  conscious  of  its  life  in  its  concrete  states  and 
correlations,  the  natural  man,  existing,  living,  and  being  conscious 
of  his  actual  life,  comes,  besides,  to  be  gradually  aware  of  its 
general  meaning  according  to  ideas  ; the  sons  of  God  are  called 
to  realise  this  meaning  in  all  things  to  the  end  (explanation). — The 
development  of  the  human  kingdom  in  the  ancient  world. — The 
real  limit — a living  man-god  (apotheosis  of  the  Caesars). — As  in 
the  animal  kingdom  the  appearance  of  the  anthropomorphic  ape 
anticipates  the  appearance  of  the  real  man,  so  in  natural  humanity 

the  deified  Caesar  is  the  anticipation  of  the  true  God-man  . 183 

III.  The  God-man  as  the  first  and  essential  manifestation  of 
the  kingdom  of  God. — Reasons  for  believing  in  the  historical 
existence  of  Christ  (as  the  God-man)  from  the  point  of  view  of 

the  evolution  of  the  world  rationally  understood  . . . 186 

IV.  Positive  unity  of  the  world-process  in  its  three  aspects  : (1) 

the  lower  kingdoms  form  part  of  the  moral  order  as  the  necessary 
conditions  of  its  realisation  ; (2)  each  of  the  lower  forms  strives 
towards  a correspondingly  higher  form  ; (3)  each  of  the  higher 
forms  physically  (and  psychologically)  includes  the  lower. — The 
process  of  gathering  the  universe  together. — The  task  of  the 
natural  man  and  humanity  is  to  gather  together  the  universe  in 
idea  ; the  task  of  the  God-man  and  the  divine  humanity  is  to 
gather  the  universe  together  in  reality  . . . .188 

V.  Positive  connection  between  the  spiritual  and  the  natural 
man,  between  grace  and  natural  goodness. — Historical  confirmation 

of  the  essential  truth  of  Christianity  . . . .190 

VI.  Christ  as  the  perfect  individual. — Reason  why  He  first 

appeared  in  the  middle  of  history  and  not  at  the  end  of  it  . 193 

VII.  The  perfect  moral  order  presupposes  the  moral  freedom 
of  each  person,  and  true  freedom  is  acquired  by  a finite  spirit 
through  experience  only  : hence  the  necessity  of  historical  develop- 
ment after  Christ. — The  ultimate  significance  of  that  development. 

— The  actual  task  morality  has  before  it  inevitably  brings  us  into 
the  realm  of  conditions  which  determine  the  concrete  historical 
existence  of  society  or  of  the  collective  man  . . .193 


CONTENTS 


li 


PART  III 

THE  GOOD  THROUGH  HUMAN  HISTORY 


CHAPTER  I 

PAGE 

The  Individual  and  Society. 

I.  The  separation  between  the  individual  and  society  as  such 

is  nothing  but  a morbid  illusion  (explanation)  . . .199 

II.  Human  personality  as  such,  in  virtue  of  the  reason  and 

will  inherent  in  it,  is  capable  of  realising  unlimited  possibilities,  in 
other  words,  it  is  a special  form  with  infinite  content. — The 
chimera  of  self-sufficient  personality  and  the  chimera  of  impersonal 
society. — Society  is  involved  in  the  very  definition  of  personality  as 
a rationally  knowing  and  morally  active  force,  which  is  only 
possible  in  social  existence  (proofs). — Society  is  the  objectively 
realisable  content  of  the  rational  and  moral  personality — not  its 
external  limit,  but  its  essential  complement. — It  embodies  the 
indivisible  wholeness  of  universal  life,  partly  realised  already 
in  the  past  (common  tradition),  partly  realisable  in  the  present 
(social  service)  and  anticipating  the  perfect  realisation  in  the 
future  (the  common  ideal). — To  these  abiding  moments  of  the 
individually  social  life  there  correspond  three  main  stages  in 
the  historical  development  : the  tribal  (past) ; the  nationally- 
political  (present)  ; and  the  world-wide  (future). — A clear  distinc- 
tion between  these  grades  and  aspects  of  life  actually  shows 
itself  in  history  as  the  successive  transformation  of  one  into 
another  and  not  as  the  exclusive  presence  of  any  one  of  these 
forms  ........  200 

III.  Society  is  the  completed  or  the  expanded  individual,  and 
the  individual  is  the  compressed  or  concentrated  society. — The 
historical  task  of  morality  lies  not  in  creating  a solidarity  between 
the  individual  and  society  but  in  rendering  this  solidarity  conscious, 
in  transforming  it  from  involuntary  into  voluntary,  so  that  each 
person  should  understand,  accept,  and  carry  out  the  common  task 

as  his  own  .......  203 

IV.  True  morality  is  a right  interaction  between  the  individual 
and  his  environment. — Man  is  from  the  first  an  individually- 
social  being,  and  the  whole  history  is  a process  of  gradually 
deepening,  widening,  and  raising  to  a higher  level  this  two-sided, 
individually-social  life.  Of  these  two  indivisible  and  correlative 
terms  the  individual  is  the  movable,  the  dynamic  element, 


Hi  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


PAGE 


while  society  is  the  inert,  conservative,  and  static  element  of 
history.— There  can  be  no  opposition  of  principle  between  the 
individual  and  society  but  only  between  the  different  stages  of  the 
individually-social  development  .....  204 

V.  The  clan  (in  the  wide  sense)  as  the  rudimentary  embodi- 

ment of  morality  as  a whole  (religious,  altruistic,  and  ascetic), 
or  as  the  realisation  of  the  individual  human  dignity  in  the 
narrowest  and  most  fundamental  social  sphere  (explanations  and 
proofs)  ........  206 

VI.  The  moral  content  of  the  clan  life  is  eternal,  the  form  of 
the  clan  is  broken  up  by  the  historical  process. — The  general 
course  of  this  breaking  up. — Transition  from  the  clan  through  the 
tribe  to  the  nation  and  the  state. — The  profound  significance  of 

the  word  ‘ fatherland  ’ ......  207 

VII.  When  a new  and  wider  social  whole  (the  fatherland)  is 
formed,  the  clan  becomes  the  family  (explanation). — The  signifi- 
cance of  the  individual  element  in  the  transition  from  the 

clan  to  the  state  . . . . . . .210 

VIII.  Every  social  group  has  only  a relative  and  conditional 

claim  on  man. — Social  organisation,  even  of  a comparatively  high 
type — e.g.  the  state — has  no  right  at  all  over  the  eternal  moral 
content  which  is  present  even  in  the  relatively  lower  forms  of 
life — in  the  clan  life,  for  instance  (detailed  explanation  out  of 
Sophocles’s  Antigone ) . . . . . .213 


CHAPTER  II 

The  Chief  Moments  in  the  Historical  Development  of 

THE  InDIVIDUALLY-SoCIAL  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

I.  Moral  progress  (on  its  religious  and  altruistic  side)  corre- 
sponds to  the  social  progress  (explanatory  remarks)  . .220 

II.  Achievements  of  civilisation  as  a condition  of  progress  for 

ascetic  morality,  which  is  not  the  work  of  individuals  taken  as 
such,  but  of  man  as  an  individually-social  being  (historical  ex- 
planation and  confirmation). — Conditions  which  render  conscious- 
ness of  spiritual  independence  possible  . . . 222 

III.  Recognition  by  the  human  personality  of  its  purely 
negative  or  formal  infinity  without  any  definite  content. — The 
religion  of  Awakening  : “ I am  above  all  this  ; all  this  is  empty.” — 
Buddhist  confession  of  the  ‘ three  treasures  ’ : I believe  in  Buddha, 

I believe  in  the  doctrine,  I believe  in  the  community  ” — i.e.  all  is 
illusion  with  the  exception  of  three  things  worthy  of  belief : the 
man  who  is  spiritually  awake,  the  words  of  awakening,  and  the 
brotherhood  of  the  awakened. — Buddhism  as  the  first  extant 


CONTENTS 


liii 


stage  of  human  universalism  rising  above  the  exclusive  nationally- 
political  structure  of  pagan  religion  and  society. — The  moral 
essence  of  the  Buddhist  doctrine  : reverence  for  the  first  awakened, 
the  commandment  of  will-lessness  and  of  universal  benevolence  . 

IV.  Criticism  of  Buddhism  : its  inner  contradictions  . 

V.  Final  definition  of  the  Buddhist  doctrine  as  religious  and 
moral  nihilism  (in  the  strict  sense),  which  denies  in  principle  every 
object  and  every  motive  for  reverence,  pity,  and  spiritual  struggle 

VI.  Logical  transition  from  Hindu  nihilism  to  Greek  idealism. 
— Greeks  no  less  than  Hindus  felt  the  emptiness  of  sensuous 
being  : the  pessimism  of  Greek  poetry  and  philosophy. — But  from 
sensuous  emptiness  Greeks  passed  to  the  intelligible  fulness  of  the 
Ideas. — Statement  of  the  Ideal  theory  (historical  instances  and 
explanations)  ....... 

VII.  The  impossibility  of  consistently  contrasting  the  two 

worlds. — Three  relative  and  analogous  wrongs  (anomalies)  of  the 
phenomenal  world  : the  psychological  (the  subjection  of  reason 
to  passions),  the  social  (the  subjection  of  the  wise  man  to  the  mob), 
and  the  physical  (the  subjection  of  the  living  organic  form  to  the 
inorganic  forces  of  substance  in  death). — Idealism  attempts  to 
combat  the  first  two  anomalies  but  is  blind  and  dumb  to  the 
third. — The  whole  of  our  world  (not  only  the  mental  and  the 
political  but  the  physical  as  well)  is  in  need  of  salvation,  and  the 
Saviour  is  not  the  Hindu  ascetic  or  the  Greek  philosopher  but  the 
Jewish  Messiah — not  one  who  rejects  life  in  the  name  of  non-being 
or  in  the  name  of  abstract  Ideas,  but  one  who  makes  life  whole 
and  raises  it  up  for  eternity  ..... 

VIII.  Comparison  between  Buddhism,  Platonism,  and  Christi- 
anity : negative  universalism,  one-sided  universalism,  and  positive, 
complete,  or  perfect  universalism. — The  weakness  of  Platonism 
from  the  moral  point  of  view. — Preparatory  significance  of  Buddh- 
ism and  Platonism  ; their  fruitlessness  when  they  are  taken  to 
be  doctrines  complete  in  themselves. — Christianity  as  an  absolute 
event,  an  absolute  promise , and  an  absolute  task 


CHAPTER  III 

Abstract  Subjectivism  in  Morality. 

I.  The  erroneous  view  which  denies  as  a matter  of  principle 

that  morality  has  an  objective  task  or  is  the  work  of  the  collective 
man. — Statement  of  the  question  . . . . . 

II.  The  insufficiency  of  morality  as  subjective  feeling  only. — 
Historical  confirmation  ...... 

III.  The  insufficiency  of  morality  which  addresses  its  demands 
to  individuals  only. — Historical  confirmation 


PAGE 

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230 

233 

236 


240 

244 

248 

250 

2S4 


liv  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

IV.  The  demand  for  organised  morality  (theoretical  explana- 
tion).— The  degree  of  the  individual’s  subordination  to  society 
must  correspond  to  the  degree  to  which  society  itself  is  subordinate 
to  the  moral  good.  Apart  from  its  connection  with  the  moral 
good,  social  environment  has  no  claim  whatever  upon  the  individual. 


CHAPTER  IV 

The  Moral  Norm  of  Social  Life. 

I.  The  error  of  social  realism,  according  to  which  social  in- 
stitutions and  interests  have  a supreme  and  decisive  significance 
in  themselves. — Man  is  not  merely  a social  animal. — The  concep- 
tion of  a social  being  is  poorer  in  intension  but  wider  in  extension 
than  the  conception  of  man. — Description  of  the  social  life  of  ants 

II.  The  unconditional  value  of  the  individual  for  society. — No 
man  under  any  circumstances  and  for  any  reason  may  be  regarded 
as  merely  a means  or  an  instrument — neither  for  the  good  of 
another  person,  nor  for  the  good  of  a group  of  persons,  nor  for  the 
so-called  ‘common  good’  (explanations). — Religion,  family,  and 
property  in  relation  to  the  unconditional  moral  norm 

III.  Rights  of  man  wrongly  understood  as  the  privilege  of  the 
one  (eastern  monarchies)  or  of  the  few  (classical  aristocracies)  or 
of  the  many  (democracies). — The  three  chief  anomalies  of  the 
ancient  society  — the  denial  of  human  dignity  to  the  external 
enemies,  to  slaves,  and  to  criminals. — Progress  of  social  morality 
in  the  consciousness  of  the  ancient  world. — The  absolute  affirma- 
tion of  human  dignity  in  Christianity  . 

IV.  The  task  of  the  present  is  to  make  all  social  institutions 
conformable  to  the  unconditional  moral  norm  and  to  struggle 
with  the  collective  evil  ...... 


CHAPTER  V 

The  National  Question  from  the  Moral  Point  of  View. 

The  collective  evil  as  a threefold  immoral  relation  : between 
different  nations,  between  society  and  the  criminal,  between 
different  classes  of  society  ...... 

I.  Nationalism  and  cosmopolitanism.  — Moral  weakness  of 

nationalism  ....... 

II.  The  absence  of  strictly  national  divisions  in  the  ancient 
world.  — Eastern  monarchies  and  western  city  states  did  not 
coincide  with  nations  (historical  references) 


PAGE 

258 


261 

264 

268 

272 

276 

277 

279 


CONTENTS 

III.  Jews  have  never  been  merely  a nation. — Christianity  is 
not  negative  cosmopolitanism,  but  positive  super-national  and 
all-national  universalism.  It  can  as  little  demand  absence  of 
nationality  as  absence  of  individuality  (explanation  and  his- 
torical instances)  ....... 

IV.  Universalism  of  new  European  nations. — Historical  survey  : 

Italy,  Spain,  England,  France,  Germany,  Poland,  Russia,  Holland, 
Sweden  . . ... 

V.  Deduction  from  the  historical  survey  : a nation  as  a parti- 

cular form  of  existence  derives  its  meaning  and  its  inspiration 
solely  from  its  connection  and  its  harmony  with  what  is  universal. 
— Moral  weakness  of  cosmopolitanism. — Positive  duty  involved  in 
the  national  question  : love  (in  the  ethical  sense)  all  other  nations 
as  your  own  (explanation) . .... 


CHAPTER  VI 

The  Penal  Question  from  the  Moral  Point  of  View. 

Statement  of  the  question  ..... 

I.  To  be  ethically  right  the  opposition  to  crime  must  give 
moral  help  to  both  parties. — The  duty  to  defend  the  injured  and 
to  bring  the  injurer  to  reason.  — The  two  prevalent  erroneous 
doctrines  deny  either  the  one  or  the  other  aspect  of  the  matter 

II.  The  conception  of  punishment  as  retribution. — Its  root  is  in 
the  custom  of  blood  vengeance  of  the  patriarchal  stage. — The  trans- 
formation of  this  custom  into  legal  justice,  and  the  transference  of 
the  duty  of  vengeance  from  the  clan  to  the  State  . 

III.  The  genesis  of  legal  justice  is  wrongly  taken  to  be  its  moral 
justification. — Absurd  arguments  in  favour  of  the  savage  conception 
of  punishment  as  revenge  or  retribution  .... 

IV.  Immoral  tendency  to  preserve  cruel  penalties. — Since  the 
absurdity  of  retribution  is  universally  recognised,  cruel  penalties 
are  justified  upon  the  principle  of  intimidation. — The  essential 
immorality  of  this  principle. — Fatal  inconsistency  of  its  adherents  . 

V.  The  chaotic  state  of  modern  justice. — The  doctrine  of  non- 
resistance  to  evil  as  applied  to  the  penal  question.  — Detailed 
analysis  and  criticism  of  this  doctrine  .... 

VI.  The  moral  principle  admits  neither  of  punishment  as 
intimidating  retribution,  nor  of  an  indifferent  relation  to  crime  and 
of  allowing  to  commit  crimes  unhindered. — It  demands  real  opposi- 
tion to  crime  as  a just  means  of  active  pity,  which  legally  and 
compulsorily  limits  certain  external  manifestations  of  the  evil  will 
not  only  for  the  sake  of  the  safety  of  the  community  and  of  its 
peaceful  members,  but  also  in  the  interest  of  the  criminal  himself. — 


lv 

PAGE 

282 

286 

295 

299 

300 

302 

306 

310 
31  + 


lvi  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


PAGE 


Normal  justice  in  dealing  with  crime  must  give,  or  at  any  rate  aim 
at,  equal  realisation  of  three  rights  : of  the  right  of  the  injured 
person  to  be  protected,  of  the  right  of  society  to  be  safe,  and  of 
the  right  of  the  injurer  to  be  brought  to  reason  and  reformed. — 
Temporary  deprivation  of  liberty  as  the  necessary  preliminary  con- 
dition for  carrying  out  this  task. — The  consequences  of  the  crime 
for  the  criminal  must  stand  in  a natural  inner  connection  with  his 
actual  condition. — The  necessity  of  reforming  the  penal  laws  in  a 
corresponding  way  : ‘ conditional  sentences  ’ as  the  first  step  towards 
such  reformation  .......  322 

VII.  The  possibility  of  reforming  the  criminal  ; the  right  and 
the  duty  of  society  to  care  about  it. — The  necessary  reform  of 
penal  institutions  .......  324 


CHAPTER  VII 

The  Economic  Question  from  the  Moral  Point  of  View. 

I.  The  connection  of  criminality  and  national  hostility  with 
the  economic  conditions. — The  simple  nature  of  the  economic 
problem. — Theoretically  wrong  solutions  of  it  on  the  part  of 

the  orthodox  economists  and  of  the  socialists  . . . 326 

II.  Erroneous  and  immoral  isolation  of  the  economic  sphere  of 

relations  as  though  it  were  independent  of  the  moral  conditions  of 
human  activity  in  general. — Free  play  of  chemical  processes  can 
only  take  place  in  a dead  and  decomposing  body,  while  in  the 
living  organism  these  processes  are  connected  together  and  deter- 
mined by  biological  purposes. — There  is  not,  and  there  never  has 
been,  in  human  society  a stage  so  low  that  the  material  necessity 
for  obtaining  means  of  livelihood  was  not  complicated  by  moral 
considerations  (explanations)  . . . . .327 

III.  In  its  economic  life,  too,  society  must  be  an  organised 
realisation  of  the  good. — The  peculiarity  and  independence  of 
the  economic  sphere  lies  not  in  the  fact  that  it  has  inexorable  laws 
of  its  own,  but  in  the  fact  that  from  its  very  nature  it  presents  a 
special  and  peculiar  field  for  the  application  of  the  one  moral  law. 

— The  ambiguous  beginning  and  the  bad  end  of  socialism. — The 
principle  of  the  St.  Simonists  : the  rehabilitation  of  matter. — The 
true  and  important  meaning  of  this  principle  : matter  has  a right 
to  be  spiritualised  by  man. — This  meaning  soon  gave  way  to 
another  : matter  has  the  right  to  dominate  man. — Gradual  degenera- 
tion of  socialism  into  economic  materialism,  which  is  inwardly  and 
essentially  identical  with  plutocracy  (explanation)  . . -332 

IV.  The  true  solution  of  the  economic  question  is  in  man’s 
moral  relation  to  material  nature  (earth),  conditioned  by  his  moral 


CONTENTS  lvii 

PAGE 

relation  to  men  and  to  God. — The  commandment  of  labour  : with 
effort  to  cultivate  material  nature  for  oneself  and  one’s  own,  for  all 
humanity,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  material  nature  itself. — The  insuf- 
ficiency of  the  ‘ natural  harmony  ’ of  personal  interests. — Criticism 
of  Bastiat’s  doctrine  . . . . . 336 

V.  The  duty  of  society  to  recognise  and  to  secure  to  each  the 

right  of  worthy  human  existence. — The  immorality  of  certain 
conditions  of  labour  (instances,  confirmations,  and  explanations)  . 340 

VI.  The  main  conditions  which  render  human  relations  in  the 
sphere  of  material  labour  moral  : (1)  material  wealth  must  not  be 
recognised  as  the  independent  purpose  of  man’s  economic  activity  ; 

(2)  production  must  not  be  at  the  expense  of  the  human  dignity 
of  the  producers,  and  not  a single  one  of  them  must  become  merely 
a means  of  production  ; (3)  man’s  duties  to  the  earth  (material 
nature  in  general)  must  be  recognised  (explanations). — The  rights 
of  the  earth. — Man’s  triple  relation  to  the  material  nature  : (1) 
subjection  to  it;  (2)  struggle  with  it  and  its 'exploitation ; (3) 
looking  after  it  for  one’s  own  and  its  sake. — Without  loving  nature 
for  its  own  sake  one  cannot  organise  the  material  life  in  a moral 
way. — The  connection  between  moral  relation  to  the  external  nature 

and  the  relation  to  one’s  body  .....  345 

VII.  It  is  insufficient  to  study  the  producing  and  the  material 

causes  of  labour. — Full  definition  of  labour  from  the  moral  point 
of  view  : labour  is  the  interrelation  of  men  in  the  physical  sphere, 
which  interrelation  must,  in  accordance  with  the  moral  law, 
secure  to  all  and  each  the  necessary  means  of  existing  worthily  and 
of  perfecting  all  sides  of  one’s  being,  and  is  finally  destined  to  trans- 
form and  spiritualise  material  nature  ....  348 

VIII.  Analysis  of  the  conception  of  property. — The  relativity 

of  its  grounds  .......  349 

IX.  The  right  of  each  to  earn  sufficient  wages  and  to  save. — 

The  normal  origin  of  capital. — The  right  and  the  duty  of  society 
to  limit  the  misuse  of  private  property. — The  striving  of  socialism 
for  an  undesirable  extension  of  this  public  right  and  duty. — The 
moral  meaning  of  the  handed  down  or  inherited  (family)  property. 

— The  special  significance  of  family  inheritance  with  regard  to 
landed  property  : it  is  necessary  not  to  limit  it,  but,  as  far  as 
possible,  to  secure  it  to  each  family. — Objections  answered  . 354 

X.  Exchange  and  fraud.- — Commerce  as  public  service  which 

cannot  have  private  gain  for  its  sole  or  even  its  main  object. — The 
right  and  duty  of  society  compulsorily  to  limit  abuses  in  this 

sphere. — Transition  to  the  morally-legal  question  . . . 358 


lviii  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


CHAPTER  VIII 


Morality  and  Legal  Justice. 


PAGE 


I.  The  unconditional  moral  principle,  as  a commandment  of 

or  demand  for  perfection,  contains  in  its  very  nature  a recognition 
of  the  relative  element  in  morality,  namely,  of  the  real  conditions 
necessary  for  the  attainment  of  perfection. — Comparative  predomin- 
ance of  this  relative  element  constitutes  the  legal  sphere  of  relations 
and  comparative  predominance  of  the  unconditional  side  — the 
moral  sphere  in  the  strict  sense  . . . . .362 

II.  Alleged  contradiction  between  legality  and  morality 

(examples  and  explanations)  .....  364. 

III.  The  different  grades  of  moral  and  legal  consciousness. — 

The  unchangeable  legal  norms  or  the  natural  right. — Legal  con- 
servatism.— Progress  in  legality  or  the  steady  approximation  of  the 
legal  enactments  to  the  norms  of  legality  conformable  to,  though 

not  identical  with,  the  moral  norms  ....  365 

IV.  The  close  connection  between  morality  and  legal  justice, 

vitally  important  for  both  sides. — Verbal  and  etymological  con- 
firmation of  it  . . . . . . 367 

V.  Difference  between  legal  and  moral  justice  : (1)  the  un- 
limited character  of  the  purely  moral  and  the  limited  character  of 
the  legal  demands — in  this  respect  legal  justice  is  the  lowest  limit 
or  a definite  minimum  of  morality  ; (2)  legal  justice  chiefly  demands 
an  objective  realisation  of  this  minimum  of  good,  or  the  actual  aboli- 
tion of  a certain  amount  of  evil  ; (3)  in  demanding  such  realisation 

legal  justice  admits  of  compulsion  .....  369 

VI.  A general  definition  : legal  justice  is  a compulsory  demand 
for  the  realisation  of  a definite  minimum  of  good,  or  for  an  order 
which  does  not  allow  of  certain  manifestations  of  evil. — The  moral 
ground  for  this  : interests  of  morality  demand  personal  freedom 
as  a condition  of  human  dignity  and  moral  perfection  ; but  man 
can  exist  and  consequently  be  free  and  strive  for  perfection  in 
society  only  ; moral  interest,  therefore,  demands  that  the  external 
manifestations  of  personal  liberty  should  be  consistent  with  the 
conditions  of  the  existence  of  society,  i.e.  not  with  the  ideal  perfec- 
tion of  some,  but  with  the  real  security  of  all. — This  security  is  not 
safeguarded  by  the  moral  law  itself,  since  for  immoral  persons  it 
does  not  exist,  and  is  ensured  by  the  compulsory  juridical  law  which 

has  force  for  the  latter  also  . . . . .371 

VII.  Positive  legal  justice  as  the  historically-movable  definition 
of  the  necessary  and  compulsory  balance  between  the  two  moral 
interests  of  personal  liberty  and  of  the  common  good. — The  moral 
demand  that  each  should  he  free  to  be  immoral ; this  freedom  is 


CONTENTS 


lix 


secured  by  positive  laws  (explanations). — The  necessary  limit  to 

the  compulsion  exercised  by  all  collective  organisations  . .374 

VIII.  The  legal  view  of  crime  ....  378 

IX.  From  the  very  definition  of  legal  justice  it  follows  that  the 

interest  of  the  common  good  can  in  each  case  only  limit  personal 
liberty,  but  can  never  abolish  it  altogether. — Hence  capital  punish- 
ment and  imprisonment  for  life  is  impermissible  . . -379 

X.  The  three  essential  characteristics  of  law  (publicity,  con- 
creteness, real  applicability). — The  sanction  of  the  law. — Public 
authority. — The  three  kinds  of  authority  (legislative,  juridical, 
executive). — -The  supreme  authority. — The  state  as  the  embodiment 

of  legal  justice. — Limits  to  the  legal  organisation  of  humanity  . 380 


CHAPTER  IX 

The  Significance  of  War. 

I.  Three  questions  are  involved  in  the  question  of  war  : the 
generally  moral,  the  historical,  and  the  personally-moral. — The 
answer  to  the  first  question  is  indisputable  : war  is  an  anomaly 

or  an  evil  ........  385 

II.  War  as  a relative  evil  (explanations).— Transition  to  the 

question  as  to  the  historical  meaning  of  war  . . . 387 

III.  Wars  between  clans  naturally  led  to  treaties  and  agree- 
ments as  guarantees  of  peace. — The  formation  of  the  state. — The 
organisation  of  war  in  the  state  as  an  important  step  towards  the 
coming  of  peace. — ‘ The  world  empires  ’ — their  comparative  char- 
acteristic.— Pax  Romana. — Wars  in  which  ancient  history  abounds 
increased  the  sphere  of  peace. — Military  progress  in  the  ancient 
world  was  at  the  same  time  a great  social  and  moral  progress,  since 

it  enormously  decreased  the  proportion  of  lives  sacrificed  in  war  . 389 

IV.  Christianity  has  abolished  war  in  principle  ; but  until  this 
principle  really  enters  human  consciousness,  wars  are  inevit- 
able, and  may,  in  certain  conditions,  be  the  lesser  evil,  i.e.  a 
relative  good. — The  Middle  Ages. — In  modern  history  three  general 
facts  are  important  with  reference  to  the  question  of  war:  (1) 

Most  nations  have  become  independent  political  wholes  or  ‘perfect 
bodies  ’ ; (2)  international  relations  of  all  kinds  have  been  de- 
veloped ; (3)  European  culture  has  spread  throughout  the  globe 
(explanations). — The  war-world  of  the  future  . . . 394 

V.  The  general  historical  meaning  of  all  wars  is  the  struggle 
between  Europe  and  Asia — first  local  and  symbolical  (the  Trojan 
war),  finally  extending  to  the  whole  of  the  globe. — The  end  of 
external  wars  will  make  clear  the  great  truth  that  external  peace  is 


lx  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


PAGE 


not  as  such  a real  good,  but  becomes  a good  only  in  connection 
with  the  inner  (moral)  regeneration  of  humanity  . . . 399 

VI.  The  subjectively  moral  attitude  to  war. — False  identifica- 
tion of  war  and  military  service  with  murder. — War  as  the  conflict 
between  collective  organisms  (states)  and  their  collective  organs 
(armies)  is  not  the  affair  of  individual  men  who  passively  take  part 
in  it  ; on  their  part  possible  taking  of  life  is  accidental  only. — 
Refusal  to  perform  military  service  required  by  the  state  is  of 
necessity  a greater  moral  evil,  and  is  therefore  impermissible. — 

Moral  duty  of  the  individual  to  take  part  in  the  defence  of  his 
country. — It  is  grounded  on  the  unconditional  principle  of  morality 
(explanatory  instances). — Unquestionable  dangers  of  militarism 
are  not  an  argument  against  the  necessity  of  armaments. — Biblical 
illustration  .......  402 

VII.  It  is  our  positive  duty  not  merely  to  defend  or  protect 

our  fatherland,  but  also  to  bring  it  to  greater  perfection,  which  is 
inseparable  from  the  general  moral  progress  of  humanity. — To 
approach  a good  and  lasting  peace  one  must  act  against  the  evil 
root  of  war,  namely,  against  hostility  and  hatred  between  the  parts 
of  the  divided  humanity. — In  history  war  has  been  the  direct  means 
of  the  external  and  the  indirect  means  of  the  internal  unification 
of  humanity  ; reason  forbids  us  to  throw  up  this  means  so  long  as 
it  is  necessary,  and  conscience  commands  us  to  strive  that  it  should 
cease  to  be  necessary,  and  that  the  natural  organisation  of  humanity, 
divided  into  hostile  parts,  should  actually  become  a moral  or  spiritual 
unity  ........  406 


CHAPTER  X 

The  Moral  Organisation  of  Humanity  as  a Whole. 

I.  Differences  between  the  natural  and  the  moral  human  solid- 
arity, which  Christianity  puts  before  us  as  a historical  task,  de- 
manding that  all  should  freely  and  consciously  strive  for  perfection 
in  the  one  good.- — The  true  subject  of  this  striving  is  the  individual 
man  together  voith  and  inseparably  from  the  collective  man.— -The 
three  permanent  embodiments  of  the  subject  striving  for  perfection, 
or  the  three  natural  groups  which  actually  give  completion  to  the  in- 
dividual life  : the  family,  the  fatherland,  humanity. — Corresponding 
to  them  in  the  historical  order  we  have  the  three  stages — the  tribal, 
the  nationally  political,  and  the  spiritually  universal ; the  latter  may 
become  actually  real  only  on  condition  that  the  first  two  are  spiritual- 
ised.— The  concrete  elements  and  forms  of  life  as  conditional  data 
for  the  solution  of  an  unconditional  problem. — The  given  natural 
bond  between  three  generations  (grandparents,  parents,  children) 
must  be  transformed  into  the  unconditionally  moral  one  through  the 
spiritualisation  of  the  family  religion,  of  marriage,  and  education  . 409 


CONTENTS 


lxi 


II.  Homage  paid  to  the  forefathers. — Its  eternal  significance 

recognised  even  in  the  savage  cults. — Christian  modification  of  the 
ancient  cult  . . . . . . .411 

III.  Marriage. — It  unites  man  with  God  through  the  present, 
just  as  religious  regard  for  the  forefathers  unites  man  with  God 
through  the  past. — In  true  marriage  the  natural  sexual  tie  is  not 
abolished  but  transubstantiated. — The  necessary  data  for  the  moral 
problem  of  such  transubstantiation  are  the  natural  elements  of  the 
sexual  relation  : (1)  carnal  desire  ; (2)  being  in  love  ; (3)  child- 
bearing.— Marriage  remains  the  satisfaction  of  the  sexual  desire, 
but  the  object  of  that  desire  is  no  longer  the  satisfaction  of  the 
animal  organism,  but  the  restoration  of  the  image  of  God  in  man. — 
Marriage  as  a form  of  asceticism,  as  holy  exploit  and  martyrdom. 

— Child  - bearing,  unnecessary  and  impossible  in  a perfect 
marriage,  is  necessary  and  desirable  in  a marriage  which  strives 
after  perfection  ; it  is  a necessary  consequence  of  the  perfection  not 

yet  attained,  and  a natural  means  of  attaining  it  in  the  future  . 415 

IV.  The  purpose  of  the  bringing  up  of  children  in  a spiritually 
organised  family  is  to  connect  the  temporary  life  of  the  new  genera- 
tion with  the  eternal  good,  which  is  common  to  all  generations, 

and  restores  their  essential  unity  . . . . .418 

V.  True  education  must  at  one  and  the  same  time  be  both 
traditional  and  progressive. — Transferring  to  the  new  generation  all 
the  spiritual  heritage  of  the  past,  it  must  at  the  same  time  develop 
in  it  the  desire  and  the  power  to  make  use  of  this  heritage  as  of  a 
living  moving  power  for  a new  approach  to  the  supreme  goal. — 

Fatal  consequences  of  separating  the  two  aspects. — The  moral  basis 
of  education  is  to  inspire  the  descendants  with  a living  concern  for 
the  future  of  their  ancestors  (explanation). — Moral  progress  can  only 
consist  in  carrying  out  further  and  better  the  duties  which  follow 
from  tradition. — The  supreme  principle  of  pedagogy  is  the  indis- 
soluble bond  between  generations  which  support  one  another  in 
carrying  out  progressively  the  one  common  task  of  preparing  for  the 
manifestation  of  the  kingdom  of  God  and  for  universal  resurrection  421 

VI.  The  normal  family  is  the  immediate  restoration  of  the 
moral  wholeness  of  man  in  one  essential  respect — that  of  succession 
of  generations  (the  order  of  temporal  sequence). — This  wholeness 
must  be  also  restored  in  the  wider  order  of  coexistence — first  of  all 
within  the  limits  of  the  nation  or  the  fatherland.— In  accordance 
with  the  nature  of  moral  organisation,  the  nation  does  not 
abolish  either  the  family  or  the  individual,  but  fills  them  with  a 
vital  content  in  a definite  national  form,  conditioned  by  language. 
—This  form  must  be  peculiar  but  not  exclusive  : the  normal 
multiplicity  of  different  languages  does  not  necessitate  their 
isolation  and  separateness.  — The  Babylonian  principle  of  the 
division  of  humanity  through  identity  in  confusion  and  the  Sion 


lxii  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


PAGE 


principle  of  gathering  mankind  together  through  unanimity  in 
distinctness. — The  true  universal  language  means  the  community 
and  understandability  of  many  separate  languages  which,  though 
divided,  do  not  divide  ...... 

VII.  The  unity  of  mankind. — All  the  grounds  which  justify 
us  in  speaking  of  the  unity  of  a people  have  still  greater  force  when 
applied  to  humanity. — The  unity  of  origin  ; the  unity  of  language, 
irrespective  of  the  number  of  different  tongues  ; the  unity  of 
universal  history  apart  from  which  there  can  be  no  national  history 
(proofs  and  explanations). — The  indivisibility  of  the  moral  good. 
—The  evil  of  exclusive  patriotism. — Humanity  as  the  subject  of 
moral  organisation. — Transition  to  the  discussion  of  the  universal 
forms  of  the  moral  order  ...... 

VIII.  The  universal  Church  as  the  organisation  of  piety 
(explanation). — The  essence  of  the  Church  is  the  unity  and  holiness 
of  the  Godhead  in  so  far  as  it  remains  and  positively  acts  in  the 
world  through  humanity  (or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  the  Church 
is  the  creation  gathered  together  in  God). — The  unity  and  holiness 
of  the  Church  in  the  order  of  coexistence  is  its  catholicity  or  whole- 
ness and,  in  the  order  of  succession,  is  the  apostolic  succession. — 
Catholicity  abolishes  all  divisions  and  separations,  preserving  all 
the  distinctions  and  peculiarities  ..... 

IX.  Participation  in  the  absolute  content  of  life  through  the 

universal  Church  positively  liberates  and  equalises  all,  and  unites 
men  in  a perfect  brotherhood  which  presupposes  a perfect  father- 
hood ........ 

X.  The  religious  principle  of  fatherhood  is  that  the  spiritual 
life  does  not  spring  from  ourselves. — Hence  messengership  or  apostle- 
ship  in  contradistinction  to  imposture. — Christ  ‘ sent  of  God  ’ and 
doing  the  will  of  the  Father  who  sent  Him  and  not  His  own  will 
is  the  absolute  prototype  of  apostleship. — Its  continuation  in  the 
Church  : “ As  my  Father  sent  me,  so  I send  you.” — Since  filial 
relation  is  the  prototype  of  piety,  the  only-begotten  Son  of  God 
— the  Son  by  pre-eminence — -being  the  embodiment  of  piety  is  the 
way,  the  truth,  and  the  life  of  His  Church,  as  of  an  organisation 
of  piety  in  the  world. — The  way  of  piety  is  the  way  of  hierarchy 
— it  is  from  above  (the  significance  of  ordination  and  consecration). 
— The  truth  of  the  Church  is  not,  at  bottom,  either  scientific,  or 
philosophical,  or  even  theological,  but  simply  contains  the  dogmas 
of  piety  ; the  general  meaning  of  the  seven  (Ecumenical  Councils. 
— The  life  of  piety  ; the  meaning  of  the  seven  sacraments 

XI.  The  question  as  to  the  relation  of  the  Church  to  the  state 
or  the  problem  of  the  Christian  state. — Important  instance  in  the 
New  Testament  (the  story  of  Cornelius  the  centurion) 

XII.  Moral  necessity  of  the  state. — Explanations  with  regard 
to  Christianity  ....... 


423 

426 

432 

435 


437 

440 

443 


CONTENTS 


Ixiii 


XIII.  The  state  as  collectively -organised  pity. — -Vladimir 
Monomakh  and  Dante  (explanation)  .... 

XIV.  Analysis  of  the  objection  generally  urged  against  the 
definition  of  the  normal  state  ..... 

XV.  Analysis  of  legal  misunderstandings 

XVI.  In  addition  to  the  general  conservative  task  of  every 
state — to  preserve  the  essentials  of  common  life,  without  which 
humanity  could  not  exist — the  Christian  state  has  also  a progressive 
task  of  improving  the  conditions  of  that  life  by  furthering  the  free 
development  of  all  human  powers  destined  to  bring  about  the 
coming  of  the  kingdom  of  God  (explanation) 

XVII.  The  normal  relation  between  the  Church  and  the  state. 
— From  the  Christian  (the  divinely-human)  point  of  view  both  the 
independent  activity  of  man  and  his  whole-hearted  devotion  to 
God  are  equally  necessary  ; but  the  two  can  only  be  combined  if 
the  two  spheres  of  life  (the  religious  and  the  political)  and  its  two 
immediate  motives  (piety  and  pity)  are  clearly  distinguished — 
corresponding  to  the  difference  in  the  immediate  objects  of  action, 
the  final  purpose  being  one  and  the  same. — Fatal  consequences 
of  the  separation  of  the  Church  from  the  state  and  of  either 
usurping  the  functions  of  the  other. — The  Christian  rule  of  social 
progress  consists  in  this,  that  the  state  should  as  little  as  possible 
coerce  the  inner  moral  life  of  man,  leaving  it  to  the  free  spiritual 
activity  of  the  Church,  and  at  the  same  time  secure  as  certainly 
and  as  widely  as  possible  the  external  conditions  in  which  men  can 
live  worthily  and  become  more  perfect  .... 

XVIII.  The  special  moral  task  of  the  economic  life  is  to  be 
the  collectively-organised  abstinence  from  the  evil  carnal  passions, 
in  order  that  the  material  nature  — individual  and  universal  — 
could  be  transformed  into  a free  form  of  the  human  spirit. — The 
separation  of  the  economic  life  from  its  object  at  the  present  time 
and  historical  explanation  of  that  fact  .... 

XIX.  Moral  significance  of  the  law  of  conservation  of  energy. 

■ — The  value  of  the  collectively-organised  abstinence  depends  upon 
the  success  of  the  collective  organisations  of  piety  and  pity. — The 
unity  of  the  three  tasks  ...... 

XX.  Individual  representatives  of  the  moral  organisation  of 

humanity. — The  three  supreme  callings — that  of  the  priest,  the 
king,  and  the  prophet. — Their  distinctive  peculiarities  and  mutual 
dependence  ....... 


CONCLUSION 


PAGE 

447 

449 

45i 

455 


457 

460 

465 

467 


The  Final  Definition  of  the  Moral  Significance  of  Life  and 
the  Transition  to  Theoretical  Philosophy 


47o 


INTRODUCTION 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  AS  A SCIENCE 

I 

The  subject-matter  of  moral  philosophy  is  the  idea  of  the  good ; 
the  purpose  of  this  philosophical  inquiry  is  to  make  clear  the 
content  that  reason,  under  the  influence  of  experience,  puts  into 
this  idea,  and  thus  to  give  a definite  answer  to  the  essential 
question  as  to  what  ought  to  be  the  object  or  the  meaning  of 
our  life. 

The  capacity  of  forming  rudimentary  judgments  of  value  is 
undoubtedly  present  in  the  higher  animals,  who,  in  addition  to 
pleasant  and  unpleasant  sensations , possess  more  or  less  complete 
ideas  of  desirable  or  undesirable  objects.  Man  passes  beyond 
single  sensations  and  particular  images  and  rises  to  a universal 
rational  concept  or  idea  of  good  and  evil. 

The  universal  character  of  this  idea  is  often  denied,  but  this 
is  due  to  a misunderstanding.  It  is  true  that  every  conceivable 
kind  of  iniquity  has  at  some  time  and  in  some  place  been 
regarded  as  a good.  But  at  the  same  time  there  does  not  exist, 
nor  ever  has  existed,  a people  which  did  not  attribute  to  its  idea 
of  the  good  (whatever  that  idea  might  be)  the  character  of  being 
a universal  and  abiding  norm  and  ideal.1  A Red  Indian  who 
considers  it  a virtue  to  scalp  as  many  human  heads  as  possible, 
takes  it  to  be  good  and  meritorious,  not  for  one  day  merely  but 

1 In  these  preliminary  remarks,  which  are  merely  introductory,  I intentionally  take 
the  idea  of  the  good  in  its  original  complexity,  i.e.  not  merely  in  the  sense  of  the  moral 
worth  of  our  actions,  but  also  in  the  sense  of  objects  which  are  generally  regarded  as 
desirable  to  possess  or  to  enjoy  (“  all  one’s  goods,”  etc.).  Some  doctrines  deny  that 
there  is  any  such  distinction,  and  I cannot  presuppose  it  before  the  matter  has  been 
subjected  to  a philosophical  analysis. 


I 


B 


2 THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

for  all  his  life,  and  not  for  himself  alone,  but  for  every  decent 
man.  An  Esquimo  whose  idea  of  the  highest  good  is  the 
greatest  possible  supply  of  putrid  seal  and  cod-fish  fat,  undoubtedly 
regards  his  ideal  as  of  universal  application  ; he  is  convinced  that 
what  is  good  for  him  is  also  good  for  all  times  and  all  people, 
and  even  for  the  world  beyond  the  grave  ; and  if  he  be  told  of 
barbarians  to  whom  putrid  fat  is  disgusting,  he  will  either  dis- 
believe that  they  exist  or  will  deny  that  they  are  normal.  In 
the  same  way,  the  famous  Hottentot  who  maintained  that  it  is 
good  when  he  steals  a number  of  cows  and  bad  when  they  are 
stolen  from  him , did  not  intend  this  ethical  principle  for  himself 
only,  but  meant  that  for  every  man  the  good  consisted  in 
successful  appropriation  of  other  people’s  property,  and  evil  in 
the  loss  of  one’s  own. 

Thus  even  this  extremely  imperfect  application  of  the  idea 
of  the  good  undoubtedly  involves  its  formal  universality,  i.e.  its 
affirmation  as  a norm  for  all  time  and  for  all  human  beings, 
although  the  content  of  the  supposed  norm  (i.e.  the  particular 
answers  to  the  question,  What  is  good  ?)  does  not  in  any  way 
correspond  to  this  formal  demand,  being  merely  accidental, 
particular,  and  crudely  material  in  character.  Of  course  the 
moral  ideas  even  of  the  lowest  savage  are  not  limited  to  scalped 
heads  and  stolen  cows  : the  same  Iroquois  and  Hottentots  manifest 
a certain  degree  of  modesty  in  sexual  relations,  feel  pity  for  those 
dear  to  them,  are  capable  of  admiring  other  people’s  superiority. 
But  as  long  as  these  rudimentary  manifestations  of  true  morality 
are  found  side  by  side  with  savage  and  inhuman  demands,  or  even 
give  precedence  to  the  latter,  as  long  as  ferocity  is  prized  above 
modesty,  and  rapacity  above  compassion,  it  has  to  be  admitted  that 
the  idea  of  the  good,  though  preserving  its  universal  form,  is 
devoid  of  its  true  content. 

The  activity  of  reason  which  gives  rise  to  ideas  is  inherent  in 
man  from  the  first,  just  as  an  organic  function  is  inherent  in 
the  organism.  It  cannot  be  denied  that  alimentary  organs  and 
their  functions  are  innate  in  the  animal ; but  no  one  takes  this 
to  mean  that  the  animal  is  born  with  the  food  already  in  its 
mouth.  In  the  same  way,  man  is  not  born  with  ready-made 
ideas,  but  only  with  a ready-made  faculty  of  being  conscious 
of  ideas. 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  AS  A SCIENCE 


3 


The  rational  consciousness  in  virtue  of  which  man  possesses 
from  the  first  a universal  idea  of  the  good  as  an  absolute  norm, 
in  its  further  development  gradually  supplies  this  formal  idea  with 
a content  worthy  of  it.  It  seeks  to  establish  such  moral  demands 
and  ideals  as  would  in  their  very  essence  be  universal  and 
necessary,  expressing  the  inner  development  of  the  universal 
idea  of  the  good  and  not  merely  its  external  application  to 
particular  material  motives  foreign  to  it.  When  this  work  of 
human  consciousness  developing  a true  content  of  morality,  attains 
a certain  degree  of  clearness  and  distinctness,  and  is  carried  on 
in  a systematic  way,  it  becomes  moral  philosophy  or  ethics.  The 
different  ethical  systems  and  theories  exhibit  various  degrees  of 
completeness  and  self-consistency. 

II 

In  its  essence  moral  philosophy  is  most  intimately  connected 
with  religion,  and  in  its  relation  to  knowledge  with  the  theoretical 
philosophy.  It  cannot  at  this  stage  be  explained  what  the 
nature  of  the  connection  is,  but  it  is  both  possible  and  necessary  to 
explain  what  it  is  not.  It  must  not  be  conceived  of  as  a one- 
sided dependence  of  ethics  on  positive  religion  or  on  speculative 
philosophy — a dependence  which  would  deprive  the  moral  sphere 
of  its  special  content  and  independent  significance.  The  view 
which  wholly  subordinates  morality  and  moral  philosophy  to  the 
theoretical  principles  of  positive  religion  or  philosophy  is  extremely 
prevalent  in  one  form  or  another.  The  erroneousness  of  it  is 
all  the  more  clear  to  me  because  I myself  at  one  time  came 
very  near  it,  if  indeed  I did  not  share  it  altogether.  Here  are 
some  of  the  considerations  which  led  me  to  abandon  this  point  of 
view ; I give  only  such  as  can  be  understood  before  entering 
upon  an  exposition  of  moral  philosophy  itself. 

The  opponents  of  independent  morality  urge  that  “only  true 
religion  can  give  man  the  strength  to  realise  the  good  ; but  the 
whole  value  of  the  good  is  in  its  realisation  ; therefore  apart  from 
true  religion  ethics  has  no  significance.”  That  true  religion 
does  give  its  true  followers  the  strength  to  realise  the  good, 
cannot  be  doubted.  But  the  one-sided  assertion  that  such 
strength  is  given  by  religion  alone , though  it  is  supposed  to  be 


4 THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

made  in  the  higher  interests  of  religion,  in  truth,  directly 
contradicts  the  teaching  of  the  great  defender  of  faith,  St.  Paul, 
who  admits,  it  will  be  remembered,  that  the  heathen  can  do  good 
according  to  the  natural  law.  “For  when  the  Gentiles,”  he 
writes,  “which  have  not  the  law,  do  by  nature  the  things 
contained  in  the  law,  these,  having  not  the  law,  are  a law  unto 
themselves : which  show  the  work  of  the  law  written  in  their 
hearts,  their  conscience  also  bearing  witness,  and  their  thoughts 
the  meanwhile  accusing  or  else  excusing  one  another.”1 

In  order  to  receive  the  power  for  realising  the  good,  it  is 
necessary  to  have  a conception  of  the  good — otherwise  its  realisations 
will  be  merely  mechanical.  And  it  is  not  true  that  the  whole 
value  of  good  is  in  the  fact  of  its  realisation  : the  way  in  which 
it  is  realised  is  also  important.  An  unconscious  automatic 
accomplishment  of  good  actions  is  below  the  dignity  of  man 
and  consequently  does  not  express  the  human  good.  The 
human  realisation  of  the  good  is  necessarily  conditioned  by  a 
consciousness  of  it,  and  there  can  be  consciousness  of  the  good  apart 
from  true  religion  as  is  shown  both  by  history  and  by  everyday 
experience,  and  confirmed  by  the  testimony  of  so  great  a 
champion  of  the  faith  as  St.  Paul.2 

Further,  though  piety  requires  us  to  admit  that  the  power 
for  the  realisation  of  the  good  is  given  from  God,  it  would  be 
impious  to  limit  the  Deity  with  regard  to  the  means  whereby 
this  power  can  be  communicated.  According  to  the  witness 
both  of  experience  and  of  the  Scriptures,  such  means  are  not 
limited  to  positive  religion,  for  even  apart  from  it  some  men  are 
conscious  of  the  good,  and  practise  it.  So  that  from  the  religious 
point  of  view  also,  we  must  simply  accept  this  as  true,  and 
consequently  admit  that  in  a certain  sense  morality  is  independent 
of  the  positive  religion  and  moral  philosophy  of  a creed.3 

1 "0 to.v  yap  Hdvr]  ra.  pr)  vbpov  Uxovra  <j>v<rei  ra  roC  vbpov  TTOirj,  ovtol  vbpov  p^ 
%X0VTes  iavrots  elm  vbpos"  otrives  {vSdKVwrai  rb  'ipyov  rod  vbpov  ypairrbv  ev  rats 
KapbiaLS  avr&v,  avppapTvpoba-qs  avT&v  tt) s trvveidriaews  Kal  pera^b  d.\\rj\oiv  twv 
\oyiapdbv  KaryjyopouvTuv  fj  Kal  airoXoyovptvoiv. — Rom.  ii.  14-15. 

2 What  St.  Paul  says  of  the  Gentiles  of  his  time  is  no  doubt  applicable  to  men 
who  in  the  Christian  era  were  unable  to  accept  Christianity  either  because  they  had 
not  heard  of  it  or  because  it  had  been  misrepresented  to  them.  And  when  they  do 
good  they  do  it  according  to  the  natural  law  “written  in  their  hearts.” 

3 Of  course,  what  is  here  denied  is  dependence  in  the  strict  sense,  i.e.  such  a 
relation  between  two  objects  that  one  of  them  is  entirely  presupposed  by  the  other  and 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  AS  A SCIENCE 


5 


A third  consideration  leads  to  the  same  conclusion.  However 
great  our  certainty  of  the  truth  of  our  own  religion  may  be, 
it  does  not  warrant  our  overlooking  the  fact  that  there  exists  a 
number  of  religions,  and  that  each  of  them  claims  for  itself  to  be 
the  only  true  one.  And  this  fact  creates  in  every  mind  that  is 
not  indifferent  to  truth  a desire  for  an  objective  justification  of 
our  own  faith — for  such  proof  in  favour  of  it,  that  is,  as  would  be 
convincing  not  only  to  us  but  also  to  others,  and,  finally,  to  all. 
But  all  the  arguments  in  favour  of  religious  truth  which  are 
universally  applicable  amount  to  a single  fundamental  one — the 
ethical  argument,  which  affirms  that  our  faith  is  morally 
superior  to  others.  This  is  the  case  even  when  the  moral 
interest  is  completely  concealed  by  other  motives.  Thus  in 
support  of  one’s  religion  one  may  point  to  the  beauty  of  its 
church  services.  This  argument  must  not  be  dismissed  too 
lightly.  Had  not  the  beauty  of  the  Greek  service  in  the 
cathedral  of  St.  Sophia  impressed  the  envoys  of  prince  Vladimir 
of  Kiev  as  much  as  it  did,  Russia  would  probably  not  have 
been  Orthodox  now.  But  whatever  the  importance  of  this 
side  of  religion  may  be,  the  question  is  in  what  precisely  does 
the  aesthetic  value  of  one  service  as  compared  with  another 
consist  ? It  certainly  does  not  lie  in  the  fact  that  its  form  and 
setting  should  be  distinguished  by  any  kind  of  beauty.  Beauty 
of  form  as  such  {i.e.  the  perfection  of  the  sensuous  expression  of 
anything)  may  attach  to  the  most  diverse  objects.  A ballet,  an 
opera,  a military  or  an  erotic  picture,  a firework,  may  all  be 
said  to  have  a beauty  of  their  own.  But  the  introduction  of 
such  manifestations  of  the  beautiful,  in  however  small  a degree, 
into  a religious  cult,  is  rightly  censured  as  incompatible  with  its 
true  dignity.  The  aesthetic  value  of  a religious  service  does  not 
then  lie  merely  in  the  perfection  of  its  sensuous  form,  but  in  its 
expressing  as  clearly  and  as  fully  as  possible  the  spiritual  contents 

cannot  exist  apart  from  it.  All  I maintain  so  far  is  that  ethics  is  not  in  this  sense 
dependent  upon  positive  religion,  without  at  all  prejudging  the  question  as  to  the 
actual  connection  between  them  or  their  mutual  dependence  in  concreto.  As  to  the 
so-called  natural  or  rational  religion,  the  very  conception  of  it  has  arisen  on  the 
ground  of  moral  philosophy  and,  as  will  be  shown  in  its  due  course,  has  no  meaning 
apart  from  it.  At  present  I am  only  concerned  with  the  view  which  has,  of  late, 
become  rather  prevalent,  that  the  moral  life  is  wholly  determined  by  the  dogmas  and 
institutions  of  a positive  religion  and  must  be  entirely  subordinate  to  them. 


6 THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

of  true  religion.  These  contents  are  largely  dogmatic,  but  chiefly 
ethical  (in  the  wide  sense) — the  holiness  of  God,  His  love  for 
men,  the  gratitude  and  the  devotion  of  men  to  their  Heavenly 
Father,  their  brotherhood  with  one  another.  This  ideal  essence, 
embodied  in  the  persons  and  events  of  sacred  history,  finds,  through 
this  sacred  historical  prism,  new  artistic  incarnation  in  the  rites, 
the  symbols,  and  the  anthems  of  the  Church.  The  spiritual 
essence  of  religion  appeals  to  some  men  only  as  thus  embodied  in 
the  cult,  while  other  men  (whose  number  increases  as  conscious- 
ness develops)  are  able,  in  addition,  to  apprehend  it  directly  as  a 
doctrine ; and  in  this  case  again  the  moral  side  of  religious 
beauty  clearly  predominates  over  the  dogmatic  side.  The  meta- 
physical dogmas  of  true  Christianity,  in  spite  of  all  their  inward 
certainty,  are  undoubtedly  above  the  level  of  ordinary  human 
reason,  and  therefore  have  never  been,  nor  ever  can  be,  the 
original  means  of  convincing  non-Christians  of  the  truth  of  our 
religion.  In  order  to  realise  the  truth  of  these  dogmas  by  faith, 
one  must  already  be  a Christian  ; and  in  order  to  realise  their 
meaning  in  the  sphere  of  abstract  thought,  one  must  be  a philo- 
sopher of  the  school  of  Plato  or  of  Schelling.  And  as  this  cannot 
be  possible  for  every  one,  all  that  remains  for  persuading  people 
belonging  to  other  religions  of  the  truth  of  our  faith  is  its  moral 
superiority.1  And  indeed,  in  the  disputes  between  the  different 
branches  of  one  and  the  same  religion,  as  well  as  between 
different  religions,  each  side  seeks  to  justify  its  own  faith  by 
means  of  moral  and  practical  arguments.  Thus  Roman 
Catholics  most  readily  quote  in  their  own  favour  the  solidarity 
and  the  energetic  work  of  their  clergy,  united  by  the  religious 
and  moral  power  of  the  papal  monarchy,  the  unique  moral 
influence  of  their  clergy  on  the  masses  of  the  people,  the  part  the 
Pope  plays  as  the  defender  of  universal  justice  and  the  supreme 
judge  and  peacemaker  ; and  they  especially  point  to  the  multitude 
of  works  of  charity  in  their  missions  at  home  and  abroad. 
Protestants,  who  originally  separated  off  from  the  Roman  Church 
precisely  on  the  ground  of  moral  theology,  claim  in  their  turn  as 
their  essential  advantage  the  moral  loftiness  and  purity  of  their 

1 One  of  my  critics — heaven  judge  him  ! — took  me  to  mean  that  that  religion  is 
true  to  which  the  greatest  number  of  good  people  belong.  I wish  he  had  suggested 
some  method  for  such  moral  statistics  ! 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  AS  A SCIENCE 


7 


doctrine  which  liberates  the  individual  conscience  and  the  life  of 
the  community  from  many  practical  abuses  and  from  slavery  to 
external  observances  and  to  traditions,  in  their  view,  senseless. 
Finally,  the  champions  of  Orthodoxy  in  their  polemic  against 
Western  Christianity  generally  have  recourse  to  moral  accusa- 
tions. They  accuse  the  Roman  Catholics  of  pride  and  love  of 
power,  of  striving  to  appropriate  for  the  head  of  their  Church  that 
which  belongs  to  God  as  well  as  that  which  belongs  to  Caesar  ; 
they  accuse  the  Roman  Catholic  clergy  of  fanaticism,  of  loving  the 
world  and  of  cupidity,  make  it  responsible  for  the  sin  of  persecut- 
ing heretics  and  infidels.  Like  the  Protestants  they  lay  stress 
on  three  main  charges — the  Inquisition,  Indulgences,  and  Jesuit 
morality ; and  finally,  independently  of  the  Protestants,  they 
bring  against  the  Roman  Catholics  the  charge  of  moral  fratricide 
which  found  expression  in  the  arbitrary  adoption  by  the  latter 
(without  the  knowledge  of  the  Eastern  Church)  of  the  local  Western 
traditions.  The  moral  charges  they  bring  against  Protestantism 
are  less  striking  but  just  as  serious.  They  accuse  it  of  in- 
dividualism which  does  away  with  the  Church  as  a concrete  moral 
whole,  they  reproach  it  with  destroying  the  bond  of  love  not 
only  between  the  present  and  the  past  of  the  historical  Church 
(by  rejecting  the  traditions),  but  also  between  the  visible  and  the 
invisible  Church  (by  rejecting  prayers  for  the  dead,  etc.). 

Without  going  into  theology  or  pronouncing  on  the  value  of 
or  the  need  for  such  disputes 1 I would  only  draw  attention  to 
the  fact  that  neither  of  the  disputants  rejects  the  moral  principles 
proclaimed  by  the  other  side,  but  simply  tries  to  turn  them  to  his 
own  account.  Thus  when  the  Roman  Catholics  boast  of  works 
of  charity  which  especially  characterise  their  Church,  neither 
their  Protestant  nor  their  Greco-Russian  opponents  would  say 
that  charity  is  a bad  thing  ; they  would  merely  argue  that  the 
Roman  Catholic  charitable  institutions  serve  the  purposes  of 
ambition,  and,  being  thus  vitiated  by  extraneous  elements,  more 
or  less  lose  their  moral  worth.  In  answer  to  this,  the  Roman 
Catholics,  for  their  part,  would  not  say  that  ambition  is  a good 
thing  or  that  Christian  charity  must  be  subordinate  to  worldly 

1 Concerning  the  reproach  in  ‘ moral  fratricide  ’ see  my  article  in  Dogmatitcheskoe 
Raxvitie  Tserkvi  ( The  Dogmatic  Development  of  the  Church ) in  the  Pravoslavnoe  Oboxrenie 
for  1885. 


8 THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

considerations,  but  would,  on  the  contrary,  repudiate  the  charge  of 
ambition  and  argue  that  power  is  not  for  them  an  end  in  itself, 
but  only  a necessary  means  for  carrying  out  their  moral  duty. 
Similarly  when  the  Orthodox — as  well  as  the  Roman  Catholics — 
reproach  the  Protestants  with  their  lack  of  filial  piety  and  their 
contempt  for  the  Patristic  tradition,  no  sensible  Protestant  would 
urge  that  tradition  ought  to  be  despised,  but  would,  on  the 
contrary,  try  to  prove  that  Protestantism  is  a return  to  the 
most  honourable  and  ancient  traditions  of  Christianity,  freed 
from  any  false  and  pernicious  admixture. 

It  is  clear,  then,  that  the  disputing  parties  stand  on  one  and  the 
same  moral  ground  (which  alone  renders  dispute  possible),  that 
they  have  the  same  moral  principles  and  standards,  and  that  the 
dispute  is  merely  about  their  application.  These  principles  do 
not  as  such  belong  to  any  denomination,  but  form  a general 
tribunal  to  which  all  equally  appeal.  The  representative  of  each 
side  says  in  fact  to  his  opponent  simply  this  : “ I practise  better 
than  you  the  moral  principles  which  you,  too,  wish  to  follow  ; 
therefore  you  must  give  up  your  error  and  acknowledge  that  I am 
right.”  The  ethical  standards,  equally  presupposed  by  all  denomi- 
nations, cannot  themselves,  then,  depend  upon  denominational 
differences. 

But  morality  proves  to  be  just  as  independent  of  the  more 
important  religious  differences.  When  a missionary  persuades  a 
Mahomedan  or  a heathen  of  the  moral  superiority  of  the  Christian 
teaching  he  evidently  presupposes  that  his  listener  has  the  same 
moral  standards  as  his  own,  at  least,  in  a potential  form. 

This  means  that  the  norms  which  are  common  both  to  the 
Christian  and  to  the  heathen,  and  are  ‘ written  ’ in  the  latter’s 
heart,  are  altogether  independent  of  positive  religion.  Besides,  in 
so  far  as  all  positive  religions,  including  the  absolutely  true  one, 
appeal  in  the  disputes  to  the  universal  moral  norms,  they  admit 
that  in  a certain  sense  they  are  dependent  upon  the  latter.  Thus 
during  a judicial  trial  both  the  right  and  the  wrong  party  are 
equally  subordinate  to  the  law  ; and  inasmuch  as  they  have 
both  appealed  to  it,  they  have  acquiesced  in  such  subordination. 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  AS  A SCIENCE 


9 


III 

Moral  philosophy  has  then  a subject-matter  of  its  own  (the 
moral  norms)  independent  of  particular  religions,  and  even  in  a 
sense  presupposed  by  them  ; thus  on  its  objective  or  real  side  it  is 
self-contained.  The  question  must  now  be  asked  whether  on  its 
formal  side — as  a science — moral  philosophy  is  subordinate  to 
theoretical  philosophy,  especially  to  that  part  of  it  which  examines 
the  claims  and  the  limitations  of  our  cognitive  faculty.  But  in 
working  out  a moral  philosophy,  reason  simply  unfolds,  on  the 
ground  of  experience,  the  implications  of  the  idea  of  the  good  (or, 
what  is  the  same  thing,  of  the  ultimate  fact  of  moral  consciousness) 
which  is  inherent  in  it  from  the  first.  In  doing  this,  reason  does 
not  go  beyond  its  own  boundaries  ; in  scholastic  language  its  use 
here  is  immanent , and  is  therefore  independent  of  this  or  of  that 
solution  of  the  question  as  to  the  transcendent  knowledge  of  things 
in  themselves.  To  put  it  more  simply,  in  moral  philosophy  we  are 
concerned  with  our  inward  relation  to  our  own  activities,  i.e.  with 
something  that  can  unquestionably  be  known  by  us,  for  it  has  its 
source  in  ourselves.  The  debatable  question  as  to  whether  we  can 
know  that  which  belongs  to  other  realms  of  being,  independent 
of  us,  is  not  here  touched  upon.  The  ideal  content  of  morality  is 
apprehended  by  reason  which  has  itself  created  it ; in  this  case, 
therefore,  knowledge  coincides  with  its  object  (is  adequate  to  it) 
and  leaves  no  room  for  critical  doubt.  The  progress  and  the 
results  of  this  process  of  thought  answer  for  themselves,  pre- 
supposing nothing  but  the  general  logical  and  psychological 
conditions  of  all  mental  activity.  Ethics  makes  no  claim  to  a 
theoretical  knowledge  of  any  metaphysical  essences  and  takes  no 
part  in  the  dispute  between  the  dogmatic  and  the  critical  philo- 
sophy, the  first  of  which  affirms,  and  the  second  denies,  the 
reality,  and  consequently  the  possibility,  of  such  knowledge. 

In  spite  of  this  formal  and  general  independence  of  ethics  of 
the  theoretical  philosophy,  there  are  two  metaphysical  questions 
which  may  apparently  prove  fatal  to  the  very  existence  of 
morality. 

The  first  question  is  this.  The  starting  point  of  every  serious 
speculation  is  the  doubt  as  to  the  objective  validity  of  our  know- 


10  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

ledge  : Do  things  exist  as  they  are  known  to  us  ? The  doubt 
about  our  knowledge  gradually  leads  us  to  doubt  the  very  existence 
of  that  which  is  known , i.e.  of  the  world  and  all  that  is  in  it. 
This  world  is  made  up  of  our  sense  perceptions  which  the 
understanding  unites  into  one  coherent  whole.  But  is  not  the 
perceived  merely  our  sensation  and  the  connectedness  of  things 
merely  our  thought  ? And  if  this  be  so,  if  the  world  as  a whole 
be  only  my  presentation,  then  all  the  beings  to  whom  I stand  in 
the  moral  relation  prove  also  to  be  nothing  but  my  presentations, 
for  they  are  inseparable  parts  of  the  presented  world,  given  in 
knowledge  like  everything  else.  Now  moral  rules,  or  at  least  a 
considerable  number  of  them,  determine  my  right  relation  to 
other  people.  If  other  people  do  not  exist,  do  not  these  moral 
rules  themselves  become  objectless  and  unrealisable  ? This 
would  be  the  case  if  the  non-existence  of  other  human  beings 
could  be  known  with  the  same  indubitable  certainty  which 
attaches  to  moral  precepts  in  their  sphere.  If  while  my  con- 
science definitely  compelled  me  to  act  morally  in  relation  to 
certain  objects,  theoretical  reason  proved  with  equal  definiteness 
that  these  objects  did  not  exist  at  all,  and  that  therefore  rules 
of  action  relating  to  them  were  meaningless — if  practical 
certainty  were  thus  undermined  by  equal  theoretical  certainty, 
and  the  categoric  character  of  the  precept  were  negated  by  the 
indubitable  knowledge  of  the  impossibility  of  carrying  it  out — 
then  indeed  the  position  would  be  hopeless.  But  in  truth  there 
is  no  such  conflict  between  two  equal  certainties,  and  there 
cannot  be.  Doubt  as  to  the  independent  existence  of  external 
things  is  not,  and  can  never  become,  certainty  of  their  non-exist- 
ence. Suppose  it  were  proved  that  our  senses  and  our  under- 
standing are  untrustworthy  witnesses  as  to  the  existence  of  other 
beings,  the  untrustworthiness  of  the  witnesses  merely  makes  their 
testimony  doubtful,  but  does  not  make  the  opposite  true.  Even  if 
it  were  positively  proved  that  a given  witness  had  falsely  testified 
to  a fact  which  in  reality  he  had  not  witnessed  at  all,  it  would  be 
impossible  to  conclude  from  this  that  the  fact  itself  never  existed. 
Other  witnesses  might  vouch  for  it,  or  indeed  it  might  not  have 
been  witnessed  by  any  one  and  yet  be  a fact.  Our  senses  and  our 
intellect  tell  us  of  the  existence  of  human  beings  other  than  our- 
selves. Suppose  that  investigation  were  to  show  that  this  is  false, 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  AS  A SCIENCE  n 

and  that  these  means  of  knowledge  warrant  the  existence  of  objects 
as  our  presentations  only  and  not  their  existence  as  independent 
realities — which  we  consequently  begin  to  doubt.  But  to  go 
further  and  replace  our  former  certitude  of  the  existence  of  other 
beings  by  the  certitude  of  the  opposite  and  not  merely  by  doubt 
would  only  be  possible  on  the  supposition  that  whatever  is  not 
actually  contained  in  our  senses  and  our  thought  cannot  exist  at 
all.  This,  however,  is  quite  an  arbitrary  assumption,  for  which 
there  is  neither  logical  ground  nor  any  reasonable  foundation. 

If  we  cannot  in  relation  to  the  existence  of  other  selves  go 
further  than  doubt,  we  may  rest  satisfied  about  the  fate  of 
moral  principles  ; for  theoretical  doubt  is  evidently  insufficient  to 
undermine  moral  and  practical  certainty.  It  must  also  be 
remembered  that  critical  doubt  is  not  the  final  point  of  view  of 
philosophy,  but  is  always  overcome  in  one  way  or  another.  Thus 
Kant  draws  the  distinction  between  phenomena  and  noumena 
(appearances  and  things  in  themselves),  restoring  to  the  objects  of 
moral  duty  as  noumena  the  full  measure  of  independent  existence 
which  as  phenomena  they  do  not  possess.  Other  thinkers  dis- 
cover new  and  more  trustworthy  witnesses  of  the  existence  of  the 
external  world  than  sense  and  thought  (Jacobi’s  immediate  faith , 
Schopenhauer’s  Will  which  is  experienced  as  the  root  of  our  own 
reality,  and,  by  analogy,  of  that  of  other  beings),  or  they  work  out 
a system  of  a new  and  more  profound  speculative  dogmatism 
which  re-establishes  the  objective  significance  of  all  that  is. 
(Schelling,  Hegel,  and  others.) 

But  however  great  the  force  and  the  significance  of  the  critical 
doubt  as  to  the  existence  of  other  beings  may  be,  it  has  bearing 
merely  on  one  aspect  of  morality.  Every  ethical  precept  as  such 
touches  upon  the  object  of  the  action  (other  men)  only  with  its  outer 
end,  so  to  speak  ; the  real  root  of  it  is  always  within  the  agent 
and  cannot  therefore  be  affected  by  any  theory — whether  positive 
or  negative — of  the  external  world.  And  the  external  aspect  of 
the  moral  law  which  links  it  to  the  object  belongs,  properly 
speaking,  to  the  sphere  of  legal  justice  and  not  of  morality  in 
the  narrow  sense.  As  will  be  shown  in  due  course  legal  justice 
depends  upon  morality  and  cannot  be  separated  from  it,  but  this 
does  not  prevent  us  from  clearly  distinguishing  the  two  spheres. 
When  one  and  the  same  action,  e.g.  murder,  is  condemned 


12  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

equally  by  a criminologist  and  by  a moralist,  they  both  refer  to 
one  and  the  same  totality  of  psychological  moments  resulting 
in  the  material  fact  of  taking  life,  and  the  conclusions  are 
identical,  but  the  starting  point  and  the  whole  train  of  reasoning 
is  entirely  different  and  opposed  in  the  two  cases.  From  the 
legal  point  of  view,  what  is  of  primary  significance  is  the 
objective  fact  of  murder — an  action  which  violates  another 
person’s  rights  and  characterises  the  culprit  as  an  abnormal 
member  of  society.  To  make  that  characteristic  full  and 

complete,  the  inner  psychological  moments  must  also  be  taken 
into  account,  first  and  foremost  among  them  being  the  presence 
of  criminal  intention,  the  so-called  animus  of  the  crime.  But  the 
subjective  conditions  of  the  action  are  of  interest  solely  in  their 
relation  to  the  fact  of  murder,  or  in  causal  connection  with  it. 
If  a man  breathed  vindictiveness  and  murder  all  his  life,  but  his 
subjective  mental  state  found  no  expression  in  actual  murder  nor 
attempt  at  one,  nor  in  any  violence,  that  person  in  spite  of  all 
his  diabolical  malice  would  not  come  within  the  range  of  the 
criminologist  as  such.  On  the  contrary,  from  the  moral  point 
of  view,  the  slightest  emotion  of  malice  or  anger,  even  though  it 
never  expressed  itself  in  action  or  speech,  is  in  itself  a direct 
object  of  ethical  judgment  and  condemnation  ; and  the  fact  of 
murder  from  this  point  of  view  has  significance  not  on  its 
material  side,  but  simply  as  an  expression  of  the  extreme  degree 
of  the  evil  feeling  which  throughout  all  its  stages  is  deserving  of 
moral  condemnation.  For  a criminologist  murder  is  an  infringe- 
ment of  right  or  a loss  unlawfully  inflicted  upon  the  victim  and 
upon  the  social  order.  But  from  the  purely  moral  point  of  view, 
being  deprived  of  life  is  not  necessarily  a loss,  and  may  even  be  a gain 
for  the  victim  ; murder  is  an  unquestionable  loss  for  the  murderer 
alone,  not  as  a fact,  but  as  the  culminating  point  of  the  malice 
which  is  in  itself  a loss  to  a man  in  so  far  as  it  lowers  his  dignity 
as  a rational  being.  Of  course,  from  the  ethical  point  of  view, 
too,  murder  is  worse  than  a mere  outburst  of  anger.  But  this 
is  simply  because  the  former  involves  a greater  degree  of  the 
same  evil  passion  than  the  latter,  and  it  is  certainly  not  because 
one  is  a harmful  action  and  the  other  merely  a feeling.  If  with  the 
firm  intention  of  causing  death  to  his  enemy  a man  stabs  a wax 
effigy,  he  is  from  the  moral  point  of  view  a full-fledged  murderer, 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  AS  A SCIENCE 


i3 


though  he  has  killed  no  one  and  interfered  with  no  one’s 
rights ; but  for  this  very  reason,  from  the  legal  point  of  view 
his  action  is  not  even  remotely  akin  to  murder,  and  is  at  most 
an  insignificant  damage  to  another  person’s  property. 

Extreme  idealism  which  recognises  the  subject’s  inner  states 
as  alone  real  does  not  deny  that  there  exist  qualitative  differences 
between  these  states,  expressing  a greater  or  lesser  degree  of 
activity  in  the  self.  Therefore  from  this  point  of  view  also  our 
actions,  in  spite  of  the  illusory  character  of  their  object,  preserve 
their  full  moral  significance  as  indicative  of  our  spiritual 
condition.  Thus  the  feeling  of  anger  or  malice,  e.g.,  indicates 
like  every  other  passion  the  passivity  of  the  spirit  or  its  inward 
subordination  to  the  illusory  appearances,  and  is  in  that  sense 
immoral.  It  is  clear  that  the  degree  of  immorality  is  directly 
proportionate  to  the  strength  of  the  passion  or  to  the  degree  of 
our  passivity.  The  stronger  the  passion,  the  greater  passivity 
of  the  spirit  does  it  indicate.  Therefore  a passion  of  anger 
leading  to  premeditated  murder  is  more  immoral  than  a passing 
irritability,  quite  apart  from  the  theoretical  question  as  to  the 
illusory  character  of  external  objects.  Even  from  the  point  of 
view  of  subjective  idealism,  then,  bad  actions  are  worse  than  bad 
emotions  which  do  not  lead  to  actions. 

The  conclusion  that  follows  from  this  is  clear.  If  the 
universe  were  merely  my  dream,  this  would  be  fatal  only  to  the 
objective,  the  external  side  of  ethics  (in  the  broad  sense),  and  not 
to  its  own  inner  sphere;  it  would  destroy  my  interest  in 
jurisprudence,  politics,  in  social  questions,  in  philanthropy,  but  it 
would  not  affect  the  individually  moral  interests  or  the  duties 
to  myself.  I should  cease  to  care  about  safeguarding  the  rights 
of  others,  but  would  still  preserve  my  own  inner  dignity.  Not 
feeling  any  tender  compassion  for  the  phantoms  surrounding  me, 
I should  be  all  the  more  bound  to  refrain  from  evil  or  shameful 
passions  in  relation  to  them.  If  it  be  opposed  to  moral  dignity 
to  bear  malice  against  a living  human  being,  it  is  all  the  more 
so  against  a mere  phantom  ; if  it  be  shameful  to  fear  that  which 
exists,  it  is  still  more  shameful  to  fear  that  which  does  not  exist  ; 
if  it  be  shameful  and  contrary  to  reason  to  strive  for  the  material 
possession  of  real  objects,  it  is  no  less  shameful  and  far  more 
irrational  to  entertain  such  a desire  with  regard  to  phantoms  of 


i4  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


one’s  own  imagination.  Quite  apart  from  the  theory  that  all 
that  exists  is  a dream,  when  in  the  ordinary  way  we  dream  of 
doing  something  immoral  we  feel  ashamed  of  it  even  after 
awakening.  Of  course  if  I dream  that  I have  killed  some  one,  on 
waking  I am  not  so  much  ashamed  of  my  action  as  pleased  at 
its  having  been  only  a dream  ; but  of  the  vindictive  feeling 
experienced  in  the  dream  I am  ashamed  even  when  awake. 

In  view  of  all  these  considerations,  the  following  general 
conclusion  seems  inevitable.  Theoretical  philosophy  (namely,  the 
critique  of  knowledge)  may  engender  doubt  as  to  the  existence 
of  the  objects  of  morality,  but  it  certainly  cannot  create  a 
conviction  of  their  non-existence.  The  doubt  (which,  however, 
is  disposed  of,  in  one  way  or  another,  by  the  theoretical 
philosophy  itself)  cannot  outweigh  the  certainty  which  attaches 
to  the  deliverances  of  conscience.  But  even  if  it  were  possible 
to  be  certain  of  the  non-existence  of  other  beings  (as  objects  of 
moral  activity),  this  would  only  affect  the  objective  side  of  ethics, 
leaving  its  own  essential  sphere  altogether  untouched.  This 
conclusion  sufficiently  safeguards  the  independence  of  moral 
philosophy  with  regard  to  the  first  point  raised  by  the  critique 
of  knowledge.  The  second  difficulty  arises  in  connection  with 
the  metaphysical  question  of  the  freedom  of  will. 

IV 

It  is  often  maintained  that  the  fate  of  moral  consciousness 
depends  upon  this  or  that  view  of  the  freedom  of  will.  It  is 
urged  that  either  our  actions  are  free  or  they  are  determined,  and 
then  it  is  affirmed  that  the  second  alternative,  namely,  deter- 
minism, or  the  theory  that  all  our  actions  and  states  happen  with 
necessity,  makes  human  morality  impossible  and  thus  deprives 
moral  philosophy  of  all  meaning.  If,  they  say,  man  is  merely 
a wheel  in  the  world  machine,  it  is  impossible  to  speak  of 
moral  conduct.  But  the  whole  force  of  the  argument  depends 
upon  an  erroneous  confusion  between  mechanical  determinism 
and  determinism  in  general — a confusion  from  which  Kant  himself 
is  not  altogether  free.  Determinism  in  general  merely  affirms 
that  everything  that  happens,  and  therefore  all  human  conduct,  is 
determined  ( determinate — hence  the  name  of  the  theory)  by  sufficient 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  AS  A SCIENCE 


i5 


reasons , apart  from  which  it  cannot  take  place,  and  given  which  it 
happens  with  necessity.  But  although  the  general  concept  of 
necessity  is  always  identical  with  itself,  necessity  as  actual  fact 
varies  according  to  the  sphere  in  which  it  is  realised  ; and 
corresponding  to  the  three  chief  kinds  of  necessity  (with  reference 
to  events  and  actions)  there  may  be  distinguished  three  kinds  of 
determinism  : (1)  mechanical  determinism , which  certainly  is 

exclusive  of  morality  ; (2)  psychological  determinism , which  allows 
for  some  moral  elements  but  is  hardly  compatible  with  others  ; 
(3)  rationally  ideal  determinism , which  gives  full  scope  to  the 
demands  of  morality. 

Mechanical  necessity  is  undoubtedly  present  in  phenomena, 
but  the  assertion  that  it  is  the  only  kind  of  necessity  that  exists 
is  simply  a consequence  of  the  materialistic  metaphysics  which 
would  reduce  all  that  is  to  mechanical  movements  of  matter. 
This  view,  however,  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  conviction  that 
everything  that  happens  has  a sufficient  reason  which  determines  it 
with  necessity.  To  regard  man  as  a wheel  in  the  world  machine, 
one  must  at  least  admit  the  existence  of  such  a machine,  and  by 
no  means  all  determinists  would  agree  to  this.  Many  of  them 
regard  the  material  world  merely  as  a presentation  in  the  mind  of 
spiritual  beings,  and  hold  that  it  is  not  the  latter  who  are  mechanic- 
ally determined  by  real  things,  but  that  phenomena  are  mentally 
determined  in  accordance  with  the  laws  of  the  inner  life  of  the 
spiritual  beings,  of  which  man  is  one. 

Leaving  metaphysics  for  the  present  on  one  side  and  confining 
ourselves  to  the  limits  of  general  experience,  we  undoubtedly  find 
already  in  the  animal  world  inner  psychological  necessity  essentially 
irreducible  to  mechanism.  Animals 1 are  determined  in  their 
actions  not  merely  externally,  but  also  from  within,  not  by 
the  push  and  pressure  of  things,  but  by  impelling  motives,  i.e.  by 
their  own  ideas.  Even  granting  that  these  motives  are  caused 

1 In  a certain  sense  of  course  the  same  may  be  said  of  plants  and  even  of  the  different 
parts  of  the  inorganic  world,  for  there  does  not  exist  in  nature  pure  mechanism  or 
absolute  soullessness  ; but  in  these  preliminary  remarks  I wish  to  keep  to  what  is 
indisputable  and  generally  understood.  Concerning  the  different  kinds  of  causality 
or  necessity  in  connection  with  the  problem  of  the  freedom  of  will  see  in  particular 
Schopenhauer,  Grundprobl.  des  Ethik  and  With  in  der  Natur.  I have  given  the  essence 
of  his  views  in  my  Kritika  otvletchonnih  natchal  ( Critique  of  Abstract  Principles ), 
chap.  ix. 


16  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


by  outer  objects,  they  nevertheless  arise  and  act  in  the  animal’s 
mind  in  accordance  with  its  own  nature.  This  psychological 
necessity  is  of  course  not  freedom,  but  it  cannot  be  identified  with 
mechanical  necessity.  Where  Kant  attempts  to  identify  the  two, 
the  erroneousness  of  his  contention  is  betrayed  by  a curiously  un- 
fortunate comparison  he  makes.  In  his  words  the  freedom  of 

being  determined  by  one’s  own  ideas  is  in  truth  no  better  than 

the  freedom  of  a roasting-jack  which  being  once  set  going  pro- 
duces its  movements  by  itself.  Not  only  Kant,  who  was  opposed  to 
any  kind  of  hyloism  (animation  of  matter),  but  the  most  poetically 
minded  Natur-philosoph  would  certainly  not  ascribe  to  such  an 
object  as  a roasting-jack  the  power  of  spontaneously  producing  its 
movements.  When  we  say  that  it  turns  by  itself  we  simply 

mean  that,  owing  to  the  force  of  the  impetus  it  has  received,  it 

continues  to  move  alone.  The  words  “by  itself”  mean  here  “ with- 
out the  help  of  any  new  additional  agent  ” — the  same  as  the 
French  tout  seul 1 — and  in  no  way  presupposes  that  the  object 
moved  contributes  anything  of  itself  to  the  movement.  But 
when  we  say  of  an  animal  that  it  moves  by  itself,  we  mean 
precisely  its  inward  participation  in  producing  movements.  It 
flees  from  an  enemy  or  runs  towards  food,  not  because  these 
movements  have  been  externally  communicated  to  it  beforehand, 
but  because  at  that  moment  it  experiences  fear  of  the  enemy  or 
desire  for  food.  Of  course  these  psychological  states  are  not  free 
acts  of  will,  nor  do  they  immediately  produce  bodily  movements  ; 
they  merely  set  going  a certain  mechanism  which  is  already  there, 
fitted  for  the  execution  of  certain  actions.  But  the  special 
peculiarity  which  does  not  allow  of  animal  life  being  reduced  to 
mere  mechanism  is  that,  for  the  normal  interaction  between  the 

1 In  the  Polish  language  the  word  sam  has  kept  only  this  negative  sense — alone  without 
the  others  (the  derivative  samotny  = lonely)  ; in  the  Russian  and  the  German  languages  both 
meanings  are  possible,  and  if  the  positive  (the  inner,  spontaneous  causality)  is  given  the 
negative  (absence  of  any  other  cause)  is  presupposed,  but  not  vice  versa.  Thus  the 
word  samouchka  (self-taught)  denotes  a man  who  has  himself  been  the  cause  of  his  educa- 
tion and  who  studied  alone  without  the  help  of  others.  The  two  meanings  are  here 
combined  as  in  similar  words  in  other  languages,  e.g.  the  German  Selbsterziehung  or  the 
English  self-help.  But  when  we  say  that  a roasting-jack  moves  [sam)  by  itself  ( Selbst ),  the 
word  has  merely  the  negative  meaning  that  at  the  present  moment  nothing  external  is 
pushing  the  object.  But  it  is  certainly  not  meant  that  the  jack  is  the  spontaneous 
cause  of  its  movements  ; the  cause  is  wholly  contained  in  the  previous  impetus,  external 
to  the  object. 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  AS  A SCIENCE 


*7 


animal  organism  and  the  external  environment  to  take  place,  the 
latter  must  take  for  the  animal  the  form  of  a motive  and 
determine  the  animal’s  movements  in  accordance  with  its  own 
pleasant  or  unpleasant  feelings.  The  presence  or  absence  of  the 
capacity  for  feeling  which  is  inseparably  connected  with  the  two 
other  faculties  of  willing  and  of  representing — i.e.  the  presence 
or  absence  of  an  inner  life — is  the  most  important  difference  that 
we  can  conceive.  And  if  we  grant  the  presence  of  this  inner 
life  in  the  animal  and  deny  it  to  a mechanical  automaton,  we 
have  "no  right  to  identify  the  two  as  Kant  does.1 

The  psychical  life  as  manifested  in  the  different  species  and  in 
individual  animals  (and  in  man)  presents  qualitative  differences 
which  enable  us,  for  instance,  to  distinguish  between  the  ferocious 
and  the  meek,  the  brave  and  the  cowardly,  etc.  Animals  are  not 
aware  of  these  qualities  as  either  good  or  bad  ; but  in  human 
beings  the  same  qualities  are  regarded  as  indicating  a good  or  a 
bad  nature.  There  is  a moral  element  involved  here,  and  experi- 
ence unquestionably  proves  that  good  nature  may  develop  and  bad 
be  suppressed  or  corrected  ; we  already  have  here  a certain  object 
for  moral  philosophy  and  a problem  of  its  practical  application, 
though  of  course  there  is  as  yet  no  question  as  to  the  freedom  of 
will.  The  final  independence  of  ethics  of  this  metaphysical 
problem  is,  however,  to  be  discovered  not  within  the  sphere  of 
psychical  life  which  is  common  to  man  and  animal,  but  within 
the  sphere  of  human  morality  proper. 

V 

Just  as  in  the  animal  world  psychological  necessity  is  super- 
added  to  the  mechanical  without  cancelling  the  latter  or  being 
reduced  to  it,  so  in  the  human  world  to  these  two  kinds  of 
necessity  is  added  the  ideally  rational  or  moral  necessity.  It 
implies  that  the  motives  or  sufficient  reasons  of  human  actions  are 
not  limited  to  concrete  particular  ideas  which  affect  the  will  through 

1 The  logical  right  to  doubt  the  presence  of  a mental  life  in  animals  must  be  based 
upon  the  same  grounds  upon  which  I doubt  the  existence  of  minds  other  than  my  own 
(see  above).  An  exact  solution  of  this  purely  theoretical  problem  is  impossible  in  the 
domain  of  ethics  and  is  not  necessary  for  it  $ it  is  a question  for  epistemology  and 
metaphysics. 

C 


1 8 THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

the  pleasant  or  unpleasant  sensations,  but  may  be  supplied  by 
the  universal  rational  idea  of  the  good  acting  upon  the  conscious 
will  in  the  form  of  absolute  duty  or,  in  Kant’s  terminology, 
in  the  form  of  a categorical  imperative.  To  put  it  more  plainly, 
man  may  do  good  apart  from  and  contrary  to  any  self-interested 
considerations,  for  the  sake  of  the  good  itself,  from  reverence 
for  duty  or  the  moral  law.  This  is  the  culminating  point  of 
morality,  which  is,  however,  quite  compatible  with  determinism 
and  in  no  way  requires  the  so-called  freedom  of  will.  Those  who 
affirm  the  contrary  ought  first  to  banish  from  the  human  mind 
and  language  the  very  term  “ moral  necessity,”  for  it  would  be  a 
contradictio  in  adjecto  if  morality  were  possible  only  on  condition 
of  free  choice.  And  yet  the  idea  expressed  by  this  term  is  not  only 
clear  to  every  one,  but  follows  from  the  very  nature  of  the  case. 
Necessity  in  general  is  the  absolute  dependence  of  an  action 
(in  the  broad  sense,  effectus)  upon  a ground  which  determines 
it,  and  is  therefore  called  sufficient.  When  this  ground  is  a 
physical  blow  or  shock,  the  necessity  is  mechanical ; when  a 
mental  excitation,  the  necessity  is  psychological ; and  when  the 
idea  of  the  good,  it  is  moral.  Just  as  there  have  been  futile 
attempts  to  reduce  psychology  to  mechanics,  so  now  an  equally 
futile  attempt  is  made  to  reduce  morality  to  psychology,  i.e.  to 
show  that  the  true  motives  of  human  action  can  only  be  mental 
affections  and  not  a sense  of  duty — in  other  words,  to  prove  that 
man  never  acts  for  conscience’  sake  alone.  To  prove  this  is,  of 
course,  impossible.  It  is  no  argument  to  say  that  the  moral  idea 
is  comparatively  seldom  a sufficient  ground  for  action.  Plants 
and  animals  are  only  an  insignificant  quantity  as  compared  with 
the  inorganic  mass  of  the  earth  ; but  no  one  could  conclude 
from  this  that  there  is  no  fauna  and  flora  on  the  earth.  Moral 
necessity  is  simply  the  finest  flower  on  the  psychological  soil  of 
humanity,  and  for  this  reason  it  is  all  the  more  important  for 
philosophy. 

Everything  that  is  higher  or  more  perfect  presupposes  by 
its  very  existence  certain  freedom  from  the  lower,  or,  to  speak 
more  exactly,  from  the  exclusive  domination  by  the  lower. 
Thus  the  capacity  of  being  determined  to  action  by  means  of 
ideas  or  motives  means  freedom  from  the  exclusive  domination  by 
material  impact  and  pressure — i.e.  psychological  necessity  means 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  AS  A SCIENCE 


*9 


freedom  from  mechanical  necessity.  In  the  same  way  moral 
necessity,  while  wholly  retaining  its  necessary  character,  means 
freedom  from  the  lower,  psychological  necessity.  If  a person’s 
actions  can  be  determined  by  the  pure  idea  of  the  good  or  by  the 
absolute  demands  of  moral  duty,  it  means  that  he  is  free  from 
the  overpowering  influence  of  emotions  and  may  successfully 
resist  the  most  powerful  of  them.  But  this  rational  freedom  has 
nothing  in  common  with  the  so-called  freedom  of  will  which 
means  that  the  will  is  determined  by  nothing  except  itself, 
or,  according  to  the  incomparable  formula  of  Duns  Scotus, 
“ nothing  except  the  will  itself  causes  the  act  of  willing  in  the 
will  ” ( nihil  aliud  a voluntate  causat  actum  volendi  in  voluntate). 
I do  not  say  that  there  is  no  such  freedom  of  will ; I only  say 
that  there  is  none  of  it  in  moral  actions.  In  such  actions  will  is 
determined  by  the  idea  of  the  good  or  the  moral  law  which  is 
universal  and  necessary,  and  independent  of  will  both  in  its 
content  and  in  its  origin.  It  may  be  thought,  however,  that 
the  act  itself  of  accepting  or  not  accepting  the  moral  law  as  the 
principle  of  one’s  will  depends  on  that  will  alone,  and  that  this 
explains  why  one  and  the  same  idea  of  the  good  is  taken  by 
some  as  a sufficient  motive  for  action  and  is  rejected  by  others. 
The  different  effects  are  due,  however,  in  the  first  place,  to  the 
fact  that  one  and  the  same  idea  has  for  different  people  a different 
degree  of  clearness  and  completeness,  and  secondly,  to  the  unequal 
receptivity  of  different  natures  to  moral  motives  generally.  But 
then  all  causality  and  all  necessity  presupposes  a special  receptivity 
of  given  objects  to  a certain  kind  of  stimuli.  The  stroke  of  a 
billiard  cue  which  moves  a billiard  ball  has  no  effect  whatever  on 
a sun  ray  ; juicy  grass  which  excites  irrepressible  longing  in  a 
deer  is  not,  as  a rule,  a motive  of  willing  in  a cat,  and  so  on.  If 
the  indifference  of  the  sun  ray  to  the  strokes  of  a cue  or  the 
dislike  of  vegetable  food  by  a carnivorous  animal  be  regarded  as  a 
manifestation  of  free  will,  then,  of  course,  man’s  good  or  bad 
actions  must  also  be  considered  arbitrary.  But  this  is  simply  a 
gratuitous  introduction  of  misleading  terminology. 

For  the  idea  of  the  good  as  duty  to  become  a sufficient 
reason  or  motive  for  action,  a union  of  two  factors  is  necessary  : 
sufficient  clearness  and  fulness  of  the  idea  itself  in  consciousness 
and  sufficient  moral  receptivity  of  the  subject.  Whatever  the 


20  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

one-sided  schools  of  ethics  may  say,  it  is  clear  that  the  presence 
of  one  of  these  factors  in  the  absence  of  the  other  is  insufficient 
for  producing  the  moral  effect.  Thus,  to  use  a Biblical 
example,  Abraham,  who  had  the  greatest  moral  receptivity  but 
an  insufficient  knowledge  of  what  is  contained  in  the  idea  of  the 
good,  decided  to  kill  his  son.  He  was  fully  conscious  of  the 
imperative  form  of  the  moral  law  as  the  expression  of  the  higher 
will,  and  accepted  it  implicitly  ; he  was  simply  lacking  in  the 
conception  of  what  may  and  what  may  not  be  a good  or  an 
object  of  God’s  will — a clear  proof  that  even  saints  stand  in  need 
of  moral  philosophy.  In  the  Bible  Abraham’s  decision  is 
regarded  in  two  ways — (i)  as  an  act  of  religious  devotion  and 
self-sacrifice,  which  brought  to  the  patriarch  and  his  posterity 
the  greatest  blessings,  and  (2)  as  involving  the  idea  that  God’s 
will  is  qualitatively  indifferent — an  idea  so  erroneous  and  so 
dangerous  that  interference  from  above  was  necessary  in  order 
to  prevent  his  intention  being  carried  out.  (I  need  not  here 
touch  upon  the  connection  of  the  event  with  heathen  darkness  nor 
upon  its  mysterious  relation  to  Christian  light.)  In  contradistinc- 
tion to  Abraham,  the  prophet  Balaam,  in  spite  of  his  being  fully 
conscious  of  the  right  course,  was  led  by  his  vicious  heart  to 
prefer  the  king’s  gifts  to  the  decree  of  the  Divine  will  and  to 
curse  the  people  of  God. 

When  the  moral  motive  is  defective  in  the  one  respect  or 
the  other,  it  does  not  operate  ; and  when  it  is  sufficient  in  both 
respects  it  operates  with  necessity  like  any  other  cause.  Suppose 
I accept  the  moral  law  as  a motive  for  action  solely  for  its  own 
sake,  out  of  reverence  for  it  and  without  any  admixture  of 
extraneous  motives.  This  very  capacity  to  respect  the  moral 
law  so  highly  and  so  disinterestedly  as  to  prefer  it  to  all  else  is 
itself  a quality  of  mind  and  is  not  arbitrary,  and  the  activity  that 
follows  from  it,  though  rationally  free,  is  entirely  subject  to  moral 
necessity  and  cannot  possibly  be  arbitrary  or  accidental.  It  is  free 
in  the  relative  sense,  free  from  the  lower  mechanical  and 
psychological  necessity,  but  it  is  certainly  not  free  from  the 
inner  higher  necessity  of  the  absolute  good.  Morality  and  moral 
philosophy  are  entirely  based  upon  rational  freedom  or  moral 
necessity,  and  wholly  exclude  from  their  sphere  the  irrational 
unconditional  freedom  or  the  arbitrary  choice. 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  AS  A SCIENCE 


21 


In  order  that  the  conscious  choice  of  man  might  be  deter- 
mined by  the  idea  of  the  good  with  full  inward  necessity  and  have  a 
sufficient  motive,  the  content  of  this  idea  must  be  sufficiently 
developed  ; the  intellect  must  present  the  idea  to  the  will  in 
its  full  force — and  to  do  this  is  precisely  the  function  of  moral 
philosophy.  Thus  ethics  is  not  only  compatible  with  deter- 
minism, but  renders  the  highest  form  of  necessity  possible. 
When  a man  of  high  moral  development  consciously  subordinates 
his  will  to  the  idea  of  the  good,  which  is  completely  known  to 
him  and  has  been  fully  thought  out,  it  is  clear  that  there  is  no 
shadow  of  arbitrariness  in  his  submission  to  the  moral  law,  but 
that  it  is  absolutely  necessary. 

And  yet  there  is  such  a thing  as  an  absolute  freedom  of  choice. 
It  is  found  not  in  the  moral  self-determination,  not  in  the  acts  of 
the  practical  reason  where  Kant  sought  it,  but  just  at  the  opposite 
pole  of  the  inner  life.  At  present  I can  only  indicate  my  meaning 
partially  and  imperfectly.  As  already  said,  the  good  cannot  be  the 
direct  object  of  arbitrary  choice.  Granted  the  requisite  degree  of 
understanding  and  of  receptivity  on  the  part  of  the  subject,  its 
own  excellence  is  quite  a sufficient  reason  for  preferring  it  to  the 
opposite  principle,  and  there  is  here  no  room  for  arbitrary  choice. 
When  I choose  the  good,  I do  so  not  because  of  my  whim  but 
because  it  is  good,  because  it  has  value,  and  I am  capable  of 
realising  its  significance.  But  what  determines  the  opposite  act 
of  rejecting  the  good  and  choosing  the  evil  ? Is  such  choice 
entirely  due  to  the  fact  that,  as  a certain  school  of  ethics  supposes, 
I do  not  know  evil  and  mistakenly  take  it  for  the  good  ? It  is 
impossible  to  prove  that  this  is  always  the  case.  A sufficient 
knowledge  of  the  good  in  combination  with  a sufficient  re- 
ceptivity to  it  necessarily  determines  our  will  in  the  moral  sense. 
But  the  question  still  remains  whether  an  insufficient  receptivity 
to  the  good  and  a receptivity  to  evil  is  merely  a natural  fact,  or 
whether  it  depends  on  the  will,  which  in  this  case,  having  no 
rational  motive  to  determine  it  in  the  bad  direction  (for  to 
submit  to  evil  rather  than  to  good  is  contrary  to  reason),  is 
itself  the  ultimate  cause  of  its  own  determination.  For  a rational 
being  there  can  be  no  objective  reason  for  loving  evil  as  such, 
and  the  will  therefore  may  only  choose  it  arbitrarily — on  the  con- 
dition, of  course,  that  there  be  full,  clear  consciousness  of  it ; for 


22  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

when  there  is  only  half-consciousness,  the  bad  choice  is  sufficiently 
explained  by  a mistake  of  judgment.  The  good  determines  my 
choice  in  its  favour  by  all  the  infinite  fulness  of  its  positive 
content  and  reality.  This  choice  is  therefore  infinitely  deter- 
mined ; it  is  absolutely  necessary,  and  there  is  no  arbitrariness  in 
it  at  all.  In  the  choice  of  evil,  on  the  contrary,  there  is  no  deter- 
mining reason,  no  kind  of  necessity,  and  therefore  infinite 
arbitrariness.  The  question  then  assumes  the  following  form  : 
given  a full  and  clear  knowledge  of  the  good,  can  a rational  being 
prove  to  be  so  unreceptive  to  it  as  to  reject  it  utterly  and 
unconditionally  and  choose  the  evil  ? Such  lack  of  receptivity  to 
the  good  that  is  perfectly  known  would  be  something  absolutely 
irrational,  and  it  is  only  an  irrational  act  of  this  description  that 
would  truly  come  under  the  definition  of  absolute  freedom 
or  of  arbitrary  choice.  We  have  no  right  a priori  to  deny  its 
possibility.  Definite  arguments  for  or  against  it  may  only  be 
found  in  the  obscurest  depths  of  metaphysics.  But  in  any  case, 
before  asking  the  question  whether  there  can  exist  a being  who, 
with  a full  knowledge  of  the  good,  may  yet  arbitrarily  reject  it 
and  choose  the  evil,  we  must  first  make  clear  to  ourselves  all 
that  the  idea  of  the  good  contains  and  involves.  This  is  the 
task  of  moral  philosophy  which  is  thus  seen  to  be  presupposed  by 
the  metaphysical  question  as  to  the  freedom  of  will  (if  this  question 
is  to  be  treated  seriously),  and  certainly  not  to  depend  upon  it.1 
Before  going  into  any  metaphysics  we  can  and  must  learn  what 
our  reason  finds  to  be  the  good  in  human  nature,  and  how  it 
develops  and  expands  this  natural  good,  raising  it  to  the  significance 
of  absolute  moral  perfection. 

1 A considerable  part  of  my  theoretical  philosophy  will  be  devoted  to  the  inquiry 
into  the  problem  of  free  will.  So  far,  it  is  sufficient  for  me  to  show  that  this  problem 
has  no  immediate  bearing  upon  moral  philosophy  which  is  concerned  with  the  conception 
of  the  good,  whether  the  good  be  regarded  as  an  object  of  arbitrary  choice  or  as  a 
motive  which  necessarily  determines  the  acts  of  rational  and  moral  beings.  In  what 
follows  I shall  always  mean  by  human  freedom,  individual  freedom,  etc.,  either  moral 
freedom  which  is  an  ethical  fact,  or  political  freedom  which  is  an  ethical  postulate, 
without  any  more  referring  to  the  absolute  freedom  of  choice  which  is  merely  a 
metaph  sical  problem. 


PART  I 

THE  GOOD  IN  HUMAN  NATURE 


23 


CHAPTER  I 


THE  PRIMARY  DATA  OF  MORALITY 

I 

However  convincing  or  authoritative  a moral  teaching  may- 
be, it  will  remain  fruitless  and  devoid  of  power  unless  it  finds 
a secure  foundation  in  the  moral  nature  of  man.  In  spite  of 
all  the  differences  in  the  degree  of  spiritual  development  in  the 
past  and  in  the  present,  in  spite  of  all  the  individual  variations  and 
the  general  influences  of  race,  climate,  and  historical  conditions, 
there  exists  an  ultimate  basis  of  universal  human  morality,  and 
upon  it  all  that  is  of  importance  in  ethics  must  rest.  The 
admission  of  this  truth  does  not  in  any  way  depend  upon  our 
metaphysical  or  scientific  conception  of  the  origin  of  man. 
Whether  the  result  of  a long  evolution  of  animal  organisms  or 
an  immediate  product  of  a higher  creative  act,  human  nature, 
with  all  its  characteristic  features — the  most  important  among 
them  being  the  moral  features — is  in  any  case  a fact. 

The  distinctive  character  of  the  psychical  nature  of  man  is 
not  denied  by  the  great  representative  of  the  evolutionary  theory. 
cc  No  doubt  the  difference  in  this  respect  (between  man  and  other 
animals)  is  enormous,  even  if  we  compare  the  mind  of  one  of  the 
lowest  savages,  who  has  no  words  to  express  any  number  higher 
than  four,  and  who  uses  hardly  any  abstract  terms  for  common 
objects  or  for  the  affections,  with  that  of  the  most  highly 
organised  ape.  The  difference  would,  no  doubt,  still  remain 
immense,  even  if  one  of  the  higher  apes  had  been  improved  or 
civilised  as  much  as  a dog  has  been  in  comparison  with  its  parent- 
form,  the  wolf  or  jackal.  The  Fuegians  rank  amongst  the 
lowest  barbarians,  but  I was  continually  struck  with  surprise  how 

25 


26  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

closely  the  three  natives  on  board  H.M.S.  Beagle , who  had  lived 
some  years  in  England,  and  could  talk  a little  English,  resembled 
us  in  disposition  and  in  most  of  our  mental  faculties.”  1 

Further  on  Darwin  declares  that  he  entirely  agrees  with  the 
writers  who  hold  that  the  greatest  difference  between  man  and 
animals  consists  in  the  moral  sentiment,2  which  he,  for  his  part, 
regards  as  innate  and  not  as  acquired.3  But  carried  away  by  his 
desire — within  certain  limits  a legitimate  one — to  fill  up  the 
‘ immense  ’ distance  by  intermediary  links,  Darwin  makes  one 
fundamental  error.  He  regards  all  human  morality  as  in  the 
first  instance  social , thus  connecting  it  with  the  social  instincts 
of  animals.  Personal  or  individual  morality  has,  according  to 
Darwin,  merely  a derivative  significance,  and  is  a later  result  of 
historical  evolution.  He  maintains  that  the  only  virtues  which 
exist  for  savages  are  those  that  are  required  by  the  interests  of 
their  social  group.4  But  one  simple  and  universal  fact  is  sufficient 
to  disprove  this  contention. 

There  exists  one  feeling  which  serves  no  social  purpose,  is 
utterly  absent  in  the  highest  animals,  but  is  clearly  manifested  in 
the  lowest  of  the  human  races.  In  virtue  of  this  feeling  the  most 
savage  and  undeveloped  man  is  ashamed  of — i.e.  recognises  as 
wrong — and  conceals  a physiological  act  which  not  only  satisfies 
his  own  desire  and  need,  but  is,  moreover,  useful  and  necessary  for 
the  preservation  of  the  species.  Directly  connected  with  this  is 
the  reluctance  to  remain  in  primitive  nakedness  ; it  induces 
savages  to  invent  clothes  even  when  the  climate  and  the  simplicity 
of  life  make  them  quite  unnecessary. 

This  moral  fact  more  sharply  than  any  other  distinguishes 
man  from  all  the  other  animals,  for  among  them  we  find  not  the 
slightest  trace  of  anything  approaching  to  it.  Darwin  himself, 
discussing  as  he  does  the  religious  instinct  of  dogs,  etc.,  never 
attempts  to  look  to  animals  for  any  rudiments  of  shame. 
And  indeed,  not  to  speak  of  the  lower  creatures,  even  the  highly- 
endowed  and  well- trained  domestic  animals  are  no  exception. 
The  noble  steed  afforded  the  prophet  in  the  Bible  a suitable 
image  for  depicting  the  shamelessness  of  the  dissolute  young  men 
of  the  Jerusalem  nobility  ; the  loyal  dog  has  of  old  been  rightly 

1 Darwin,  The  Descent  of  Man  (beginning  of  chap.  iii.).  a Ibid.  chap.  iii. 

3 Ibid.,  the  answer  to  Mill.  4 Ibid.,  on  social  virtues. 


THE  PRIMARY  DATA  OF  MORALITY  27 

considered  a typical  example  of  utter  shamelessness ; and  among 
the  wild  animals,  the  creature  which  in  certain  respects  is  still 
more  developed,  the  monkey,  affords  a particularly  vivid  instance 
of  unbridled  cynicism,  all  the  more  apparent  because  of  the 
monkey’s  external  likeness  to  man,  and  its  extremely  lively 
intelligence  and  passionate  temperament. 

As  it  is  utterly  impossible  to  discover  shame  among  animals, 
naturalists  of  a certain  school  are  compelled  to  deny  it  to  man. 
Not  having  discovered  any  modest  animals,  Darwin  talks  of  the 
shamelessness  of  the  savage  peoples.1  From  the  man  who  went 
round  the  world  on  his  ship  Beagle  we  might  expect  the 
positive  and  definite  evidence  of  an  eye-witness  ; but  instead  he 
merely  makes  a few  brief  and  unsupported  remarks,  convincing  to 
no  one.  Not  only  savages  but  even  the  civilised  peoples  of  Biblical 
or  Homeric  times  may  strike  us  as  shameless,  in  the  sense 
that  the  feeling  of  shame  which  they  undoubtedly  possessed 
did  not  always  express  itself  in  the  same  way,  nor  extend  to 
all  the  details  of  everyday  life  with  which  it  is  associated  in  our 
case.  So  far  as  this  goes,  however,  there  is  no  need  to  appeal  to 
distant  places  and  times  : people  who  live  side  by  side  with  us,  but 
belong  to  a different  class,  often  consider  permissible  things  of 
which  we  are  ashamed.  And  yet  no  one  would  contend  that  the 
feeling  of  shame  was  unknown  to  them.  Still  less  is  it  possible 
to  make  any  general  deductions  from  cases  of  absolute  moral 
deficiency  which  are  found  in  the  annals  of  crime.  Headless 
monsters  are  sometimes  born  into  the  human  world,  but  never- 
theless a head  remains  an  essential  feature  of  our  organism. 

To  prove  his  contention  that  primitive  man  is  devoid  of 
shame,  Darwin  also  briefly  refers  to  the  religious  customs  of  the 
ancients,  i.e.  to  the  phallic  cult.  But  this  important  fact  is  rather 
an  argument  against  him.  Intentional,  exaggerated  shameless- 
ness— shamelessness  made  into  a religious  principle — evidently 
presupposes  the  existence  of  shame.  In  like  manner  the  sacrifice 

1 The  Descent  of  Man.  When  dealing  with  savages  even  serious  scientists  sometimes 
show  remarkable  thoughtlessness.  The  other  day  I saw  an  amusing  instance  of  it  in 
the  writings  of  the  anthropologist  Brocke.  He  affirms  that  the  aborigines  of  the 
Andaman  Islands  wear  no  clothes  ; for,  he  says,  one  cannot  regard  as  such  a thin  belt 
with  a piece  of  leather  attached  to  it.  I think  one  could  with  more  ground  deny  the 
essential  function  of  clothes  to  the  European  dress-coat. 


28  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


by  the  parents  of  their  children  to  the  gods  certainly  does  not 
prove  the  absence  of  pity  or  of  parental  love,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
presupposes  it.  The  main  point  about  these  sacrifices  is  that  the 
loved  children  were  killed  : if  that  which  was  sacrificed  were  not 
dear  to  the  person  who  gave  it,  the  sacrifice  would  be  of  no  value 
and  would  lose  its  character  of  sacrifice.  (It  is  only  later,  as 
the  religious  feeling  became  weaker,  that  this  fundamental  con- 
dition of  all  sacrifice  came  to  be  avoided  by  means  of  different 
symbolical  substitutes.)  No  religion  at  all,  not  even  the  most 
savage  one,  could  be  based  upon  a mere  absence  of  shame,  any 
more  than  upon  a mere  absence  of  pity.  False  religion  as  much  as 
the  true  presupposes  the  moral  nature  of  man,  and  does  so  in  the 
very  demand  for  its  perversion.  The  demoniac  powers,  wor- 
shipped in  the  bloody  and  dissolute  cults  of  ancient  heathendom, 
were  nurtured  and  lived  by  this  real  perversion,  by  this  positive 
immorality.  These  religions  did  not  require  merely  the  natural 
performance  of  a certain  physiological  act.  No,  their  essence 
was  the  intensification  of  depravity,  the  overstepping  of  all  bounds 
imposed  by  nature,  society,  and  conscience.  The  religious  char- 
acter of  the  orgies  proves  the  extreme  importance  of  this  circum- 
stance. If  they  involved  nothing  beyond  natural  shamelessness, 
what  could  be  the  source  of  the  strained,  the  perverted,  the 
mystical  element  in  them  ? 

It  is  obvious  that  it  would  not  be  necessary  for  Darwin  to  use 
such  unconvincing  indirect  arguments  in  support  of  his  view 
could  he  produce  any  trustworthy  facts  to  show  the  presence  of 
even  rudimentary  modesty  among  animals.  But  there  are  no  such 
facts,  and  shame  undoubtedly  remains,  even  from  the  external  and 
empirical  point  of  view,  the  distinguishing  characteristic  of  man. 

II 

The  feeling  of  shame  (in  its  fundamental  sense)  is  a fact 
which  absolutely  distinguishes  man  from  all  lower  nature.  No 
other  animal  has  this  feeling  in  the  least  degree,  while  in  man  it 
has  been  manifested  from  time  immemorial  and  is  subject  to 
growth  and  development. 

But  that  which  is  involved  in  this  fact  gives  it  a further  and 
a far  deeper  significance.  The  feeling  of  shame  is  not  merely  a 


THE  PRIMARY  DATA  OF  MORALITY  29 

distinctive  feature  whereby  man  is  separated  off  for  external 
observation  from  the  rest  of  the  animal  world  ; in  it  man 
actually  separates  himself  from  material  nature,  his  own  as  well  as 
that  external  to  him.  In  being  ashamed  of  his  own  natural 
inclinations  and  organic  functions,  man  proves  that  he  is  not 
merely  a material  being,  but  is  something  other  and  higher. 
That  which  is  ashamed  separates  itself  in  the  very  mental  act 
of  shame  from  that  of  which  it  is  ashamed.  But  material  nature 
cannot  be  foreign  to  or  external  to  itself.  Hence  if  I am 
ashamed  of  my  material  nature,  I prove  by  that  very  fact  that 
I am  not  identical  with  it.  And  it  is  precisely  at  the  moment 
when  man  falls  under  the  sway  of  the  material  nature  and 
is  overwhelmed  by  it  that  his  distinctive  peculiarity  and  inner 
independence  assert  themselves  in  the  feeling  of  shame,  in  and 
through  which  he  regards  the  material  life  as  something  other, 
as  something  foreign  to  himself,  which  must  not  dominate 
him. 

Even  if  individual  cases  of  sexual  shame  were  to  be  found 
among  animals,  it  would  simply  be  a premonition  of  the  human 
nature.  For  in  any  case  it  is  clear  that  a being  who  is  ashamed 
of  his  animality  in  that  very  fact  proves  himself  to  be  more  than  a 
mere  animal.  No  one  who  believes  the  story  of  the  speaking  ass 
of  Balaam  ever  denied,  on  that  ground,  that  the  gift  of  rational 
speech  is  a characteristic  peculiarity  of  man  as  distinct  from  other 
animals.  But  still  more  fundamental  in  this  sense  is  the  meaning 
of  sexual  shame. 

This  fundamental  fact  of  history  and  of  anthropology — un- 
noticed or  intentionally  omitted  in  the  book  of  the  great  modern 
scientist  — had  been  noted  three  thousand  years  before  in  an 
inspired  passage  in  a book  of  far  more  authority:  “And  the 

eyes  of  them  both  were  opened  (at  the  moment  of  fall)  and  they 
knew  that  they  were  naked  ; and  they  sewed  fig  leaves  together, 
and  made  themselves  aprons.  And  they  heard  the  voice  of  the 
Lord  God  . . . and  Adam  and  his  wife  hid  themselves  from  the 
presence  of  the  Lord  God  amongst  the  trees  of  the  garden.  And 
the  Lord  God  called  unto  Adam,  and  said  unto  him,  Where  art 
thou  ? And  he  said,  I heard  Thy  voice  in  the  garden,  and  I was 
afraid,  because  I was  naked  ; and  I hid  myself.  And  He  said, 
Who  told  thee  that  thou  wast  naked  ? ” 


30  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

At  the  moment  of  fall  a higher  voice  speaks  in  the  depth  of 
the  human  soul,  asking  : Where  art  thou  ? where  is  thy  moral 
dignity  ? Man,  lord  of  nature  and  the  image  of  God,  dost  thou 
still  exist  ? And  the  answer  is  at  once  given  : I heard  the 
Divine  voice  and  I was  afraid  of  laying  bare  my  lower  nature.  Iam 
ashamed , therefore  I exist ; and  not  physically  only,  but  morally 
— I am  ashamed  of  my  animality,  therefore  I still  exist  as  man. 

It  is  by  his  own  action  and  by  testing  his  own  being  that 
man  attains  to  moral  self-consciousness.  Materialistic  science 
would  attempt  in  vain  to  give,  from  its  point  of  view,  a satis- 
factory answer  to  the  question  asked  of  man  long  ago  : “ Who 
told  thee  that  thou  wast  naked  ? ” 

The  independent  and  ultimate  meaning  of  the  sense  of 
shame  would  be  explained  away  if  this  moral  fact  could  be 
connected  with  some  material  gain  for  the  individual  or  for  the 
species  in  the  struggle  for  existence.  In  that  case  shame  could  be 
accounted  for  as  a form  of  the  instinct  of  animal  self-preservation 
— individual  or  social.  But  there  is  no  such  connection. 

The  feeling  of  shame  associated  with  the  sexual  act  might 
be  useful  to  the  individual  and  to  the  species  as  a preventive 
against  the  abuse  of  this  important  organic  function.  In  the 
case  of  animals  which  follow  their  instincts  we  do  not  find  any 
injurious  excesses ; but  in  the  case  of  man,  owing  to  a superior 
development  of  the  individual  consciousness  and  will,  excesses 
become  possible  ; and  against  the  most  dangerous  of  them — the 
abuse  of  the  sexual  instinct — a useful  check  is  provided  in  the 
feeling  of  shame  which  develops  under  the  general  conditions  of 
natural  selection.  This  is  a plausible  argument,  but  it  is  not 
really  valid.  To  begin  with,  it  involves  an  inner  contradiction. 
If  the  strongest  and  the  most  fundamental  of  instincts — the  instinct 
of  self-preservation — is  powerless  to  prevent  man  from  dangerous 
excesses,  how  could  this  be  done  by  a new  and  derivative  instinct 
of  shame  ? And  if  the  instinctive  promptings  of  shame  do 
not  have  sufficient  influence  over  man,  which  is  really  the  case, 
no  specific  utility  can  attach  to  shame,  and  it  remains  inexplicable 
from  the  utilitarian  and  materialistic  point  of  view.  Instead  of 
checking  the  excesses,  which  are  a violation  of  the  normal  order, 
it  itself  simply  proves  to  be  an  additional  object  of  such  a 
violation — i.e.  an  utterly  useless  complication.  Connected  with 


THE  PRIMARY  DATA  OF  MORALITY  31 

this  is  another  consideration  which  contradicts  the  utilitarian 
view  of  shame, — the  fact,  namely,  that  this  feeling  manifests  itself 
most  clearly  before  entering  upon  sexual  relations  : shame  speaks 
most  clearly  and  emphatically  virginibus  puerisque , so  that  if  shame 
had  a direct  practical  significance,  so  far  from  being  useful,  it 
would  be  detrimental  both  to  the  individual  and  to  the  species. 
But  if  shame  has  no  practical  effect  even  when  it  is  felt  most, 
no  subsequent  effect  can  be  expected  from  it.  So  long  as  shame 
is  felt  there  can  as  yet  be  no  question  of  sexual  abuse  ; and  when 
there  is  abuse,  it  is  too  late  to  speak  of  shame.  The  normal 
person  is  sufficiently  safeguarded  from  dangerous  excesses  by 
the  simple  feeling  of  satisfied  desire,  and  an  abnormal  person  or 
one  with  perverted  instincts  is  least  of  all  noted  for  his  sense  of 
shame.  Thus,  speaking  generally,  where  shame  might,  from 
the  utilitarian  point  of  view,  be  useful,  it  is  absent,  and  where  it 
is  present  it  is  of  no  use  at  all. 

In  truth  the  feeling  of  shame  is  excited  not  by  the  abuse  of 
a certain  organic  function,  but  by  the  simple  exercise  of  that 
function  : the  natural  fact  is  itself  experienced  as  shameful. 

If  this  is  a manifestation  of  the  instinct  of  self-preservation,  it  is 
so  in  quite  a special  sense.  What  is  being  safeguarded  here  is 
not  the  subject’s  material  welfare,  but  his  highest  human  dignity  ; 
or  rather  that  dignity  evinces  itself  as  still  safe  in  the  depths  of 
our  being.  The  strongest  manifestation  of  the  material  organic 
life  calls  forth  a reaction  on  the  part  of  the  spiritual  principle 
which  reminds  the  personal  consciousness  that  man  is  not  merely 
a natural  fact,  that  he  must  not  as  a passive  instrument  serve 
the  vital  purposes  of  nature.  This  is  only  a reminder , and  it 
rests  with  the  personal  rational  will  to  take  advantage  of  it.  As 
I have  already  said,  this  moral  feeling  has  no  direct  real  effect, 
and  if  its  promptings  are  in  vain,  shame  itself  gradually  disappears 
and  is  at  last  completely  lost. 

It  is  clear,  then,  that  even  if  it  were  true  that  individual  persons 
or  entire  tribes  are  devoid  of  shame,  this  fact  would  not  have 
the  significance  ascribed  to  it.  The  unquestionable  shamelessness 
of  individual  persons  as  well  as  the  questionable  shamelessness 
of  entire  peoples,  can  only  mean  that  in  these  particular  cases 
the  spiritual  principle  in  man  which  lifts  him  above  material 
nature  is  either  still  undeveloped  or  is  already  lost — that  this 


32  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

particular  man  or  this  particular  group  of  men  have  either  not 
yet  risen  above  the  bestial  stage  or  have  once  more  returned  to 
it.  But  the  hereditary  or  acquired  animality  of  this  or  that 
person  or  persons  cannot  destroy  or  weaken  the  significance  of 
the  moral  dignity  of  man,  which  with  the  enormous  majority  of 
people  clearly  asserts  itself  in  the  feeling  of  shame — a feeling 
absolutely  unknown  to  any  animal.  The  fact  that  infants  at 
the  breast,  or  the  mute,  are,  like  animals,  unable  to  speak,  does 
not  in  any  way  diminish  the  significance  of  language  as  the 
expression  of  a distinctive,  purely  human  rationality,  not  found 
in  other  animals. 

Ill 

Apart  from  all  empirical  considerations  as  to  the  genesis  of 
the  feeling  of  shame  in  humanity,  the  significance  of  that 
feeling  lies  in  the  fact  that  it  determines  man’s  ethical  relation 
to  his  material  nature.  Man  is  ashamed  of  being  dominated  or 
ruled  by  it  (especially  in  its  chief  manifestation),  and  thereby 
asserts  his  inner  independence  and  his  superior  dignity  in 
relation  to  it,  in  virtue  of  which  he  must  possess  and  not  be 
possessed  by  it. 

Side  by  side  with  this  fundamental  moral  feeling  determining 
the  right  attitude  to  the  lower,  material  principle  in  each  of  us, 
there  exists  in  human  nature  another  feeling  which  serves  as  a 
basis  for  a moral  relation  to  other  human,  or,  speaking  generally, 
to  other  living  beings  that  are  like  us — namely,  the  feeling  of  pity.1 
The  essence  of  it  lies  in  the  fact  that  a given  subject  is  conscious 
in  a corresponding  manner  of  the  suffering  or  the  want  of 
others,  i.e.  responds  to  it  more  or  less  painfully,  thus  more 
or  less  exhibiting  his  solidarity  with  the  others.  The  ultimate 
and  innate  character  of  this  moral  feeling  is  not  denied  by  any 
serious  thinker  or  scientist,  if  only  because  the  feeling  of  pity 
or  compassion — in  contradistinction  to  that  of  shame — is  present, 
in  its  rudimentary  stage,  in  many  animals,2  and  consequently  from 

1 I use  the  simplest  term,  the  most  usual  in  technical  works  on  the  subject  being 
the  terms  sympathy  or  compassion. 

2 A number  of  facts  showing  this  are  to  be  found  in  works  of  descriptive  zoology 
(particularly  in  Brehm’s  Life  of  Animals ),  and  also  in  the  literature  on  animal 
psychology  that  has  of  late  been  considerably  developed. 


THE  PRIMARY  DATA  OF  MORALITY  33 

no  point  of  view  can  be  regarded  as  a later  product  of  human 
development.  Thus  if  a shameless  man  reverts  to  the  brute 
stage,  a pitiless  man  falls  lower  than  the  animal  level. 

The  close  connection  of  the  feeling  of  pity  with  the  social 
instincts  of  men  and  animals  cannot  be  doubted  owing  to  the  very 
nature  of  that  feeling.  In  its  essence,  however,  it  is  an  individual 
moral  state,  and  even  in  the  case  of  animals  it  is  not  reducible  to 
social  relations,  much  less  so  in  the  case  of  man.  If  the  need  for 
a social  unit  were  the  only  foundation  of  pity,  that  feeling  could 
only  be  experienced  towards  the  creatures  that  belong  to  one  and 
the  same  social  whole.  This  is  generally  but  by  no  means 
always  the  case,  at  any  rate  not  among  the  higher  animals. 
Numerous  facts  of  the  tenderest  love1  between  animals  (both 
wild  and  domestic)  belonging  to  different  and  sometimes  remote 
zoological  groups  are  well  known.  It  is  very  strange  that  in  the 
face  of  this  fact  Darwin  should  maintain — without  adducing  any 
evidence  to  prove  his  contention — that  among  savage  peoples 
sympathetic  feelings  are  limited  to  members  of  one  and  the 
same  narrow  group.  Of  course  among  the  cultured  nations, 
too,  most  people  show  real  sympathy  chiefly  towards  their 
own  family  and  most  intimate  friends,  but  the  individual 
moral  feeling  in  all  races  may  transcend  — and  did  do  so 
of  old — not  only  these  narrow  limits,  but  all  empirical  limits 
altogether.  To  accept  Darwin’s  contention  unconditionally 
would  be  to  admit  that  a human  savage  cannot  attain  to 
the  moral  level  sometimes  reached  by  dogs,  monkeys,  and  even 
lions.2 

The  sympathetic  feeling  can  grow  and  develop  indefinitely, 
but  its  ultimate  essence  is  one  and  the  same  among  all  living 
beings.  The  first  stage  and  the  fundamental  form  of  all 
solidarity  in  the  animal  kingdom  and  in  the  human  world  is 

1 Love  in  the  purely  psychological  sense  (apart  from  the  materially  sexual  and  the 
aesthetic  relation)  is  firmly  established,  permanent  pity  or  compassion  (sympathy). 
Long  before  Schopenhauer  the  Russian  people  identified  these  two  things  in  their 
language  : “ to  love  ” and  “ to  pity  ” is  one  and  the  same  for  them.  One  need  not  go 
so  far,  but  it  cannot  be  disputed  that  the  fundamental  subjective  manifestation  of  love 
as  a moral  feeling  is  pity. 

2 It  is  obvious,  of  course,  that  such  cases  with  regard  to  wild  animals  can  only  be 
properly  observed  when  the  animals  are  in  captivity.  It  is  very  probable  indeed  that 
the  sympathetic  feelings  in  question  are  awakened  chiefly  in  captivity. 


D 


34  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

parental  (and  in  particular  maternal)  love.  This  is  the  simple 
root  from  which  springs  all  the  complexity  and  multiplicity  of 
the  internal  and  external  social  relations  ; and  it  is  here  that 
we  see  most  clearly  that  the  individually-psychological  essence  of 
the  moral  bond  is  no  other  than  pity.  For  no  other  mental 
state  can  express  the  original  solidarity  of  the  mother  with  her 
weak,  helpless,  piteous  offspring  wholly  dependent  upon  her. 

IV 

The  feelings  of  shame  and  of  pity  essentially  determine  our 
moral  attitude  in  the  first  place  to  our  own  material  nature,  and 
in  the  second  to  all  other  living  beings.  In  so  far  as  a man  is 
modest  and  pitiful  he  stands  in  a moral  relation  ‘to  himself  and  to 
his  neighbour  ’ (to  use  the  old  terminology)  ; shamelessness  and 
pitilessness,  on  the  contrary,  undermine  the  very  roots  of  his 
character.  Apart  from  these  two  feelings  there  exists  in  us  a 
third  one,  irreducible  to  the  first  two,  and  as  ultimate  as  they  ; it 
determines  man’s  moral  attitude  not  to  his  own  lower  nature 
and  not  to  the  world  of  beings  similar  to  him,  but  to  something 
different  recognised  by  him  as  the  higher ; as  that  which  he  can 
be  neither  ashamed  of,  nor  feel  pity  for,  but  which  he  must  revere. 
This  feeling  of  reverence  ( reverentia),  or  of  awe  (piety,  pietas\ 
before  the  higher  forms  in  man  the  moral  basis  of  religion,  and  of 
the  religious  order  of  life.  When  abstracted  by  philosophical 
reflection  from  its  historic  manifestations,  it  constitutes  the  so- 
called  ‘ natural  religion.’  The  ultimate  and  the  innate  character 
of  this  feeling  cannot  be  denied  for  the  same  reason  that  the 
innateness  of  pity  is  not  seriously  denied  by  any  one.  In  a 
rudimentary  form  both  the  feeling  of  pity  and  of  reverence  are 
found  among  animals.  It  is  absurd  to  expect  to  find  among 
them  religion  in  our  sense  of  the  term.  But  the  general  element- 
ary feeling  upon  which  human  religion  is  ultimately  based — 
namely,  the  feeling  of  reverence  and  awe  in  the  presence  of  some- 
thing higher — may  unconsciously  spring  up  in  creatures  other 
than  man.  In  this  sense  the  following  remarks  must  be  said  to 
be  true  : “ The  feeling  of  religious  devotion  is  a highly  complex 
one,  consisting  of  love,  complete  submission  to  an  exalted  and 
mysterious  superior,  a strong  sense  of  dependence,  fear,  reverence, 


THE  PRIMARY  DATA  OF  MORALITY  35 

gratitude,  hope  for  the  future,  and  perhaps  other  elements.  No 
being  could  experience  so  complex  an  emotion  until  advanced  in 
his  intellectual  and  moral  faculties  to  at  least  a moderately  high 
level.  Nevertheless,  we  see  some  distant  approach  to  this  state 
of  mind  in  the  deep  love  of  a dog  for  his  master,  associated  with 
complete  submission,  some  fear,  and  perhaps  other  feelings.  The 
behaviour  of  a dog  when  returning  to  his  master  after  an  absence, 
and,  as  I may  add,  of  a monkey  to  his  beloved  keeper,  is  widely 
different  from  that  towards  their  fellows.  In  the  latter  case  the 
transports  of  joy  appear  to  be  somewhat  less,  and  the  sense  of 
equality  is  shown  in  every  action.”  1 The  representative  of  the 
scientific  evolutionary  view  admits  then  that  in  the  quasi-religious 
relation  of  the  dog  or  of  the  monkey  to  a higher  being  (from 
their  point  of  view)  there  is,  in  addition  to  fear  and  self-interest, 
a moral  element  and  one  quite  distinct  from  the  sympathetic 
feelings  which  these  animals  exhibit  in  relation  to  their  equals. 
This  specific  relation  to  the  higher  is  precisely  what  I call 
reverence  ; and  if  one  admits  it  in  dogs  and  monkeys  it  would  be 
strange  to  deny  it  to  man,  and  to  deduce  human  religion  from 
fear  and  self-interest  alone.  These  lower  feelings  undoubtedly 
contribute  to  the  formation  and  the  development  of  religion. 
But  the  ultimate  basis  of  it  is  the  distinctive  religiously  moral 
feeling  of  man’s  reverent  love  to  what  is  more  excellent  than 
himself. 

V 

The  fundamental  feelings  of  shame , pity , and  reverence  exhaust 
the  sphere  of  man’s  possible  moral  relations  to  that  which  is  below 
him,  that  which  is  on  a level  with  him,  and  that  which  is  above 
him.  Mastery  over  the  material  senses,  solidarity  with  other 
living  beings,  and  inward  voluntary  submission  to  the  superhuman 
principle — these  are  the  eternal  and  permanent  foundations  of 
the  moral  life  of  humanity.  The  degree  of  mastery,  the  depth 
and  the  extent  of  solidarity,  the  completeness  of  the  inward 
submission  vary  in  the  course  of  history,  passing  from  a lesser  to 

1 Darwin,  op.  cit.,  end  of  ch.  iii.  Darwin  had  been  speaking  before  of  the  intellectual 
side  of  religion — of  the  acknowledgment  of  an  invisible  cause  or  causes  for  unusual 
events.  He  finds  this  too  among  the  animals. 


36  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

a greater  perfection,  but  the  principle  in  each  of  the  three  spheres 
of  relation  remains  one  and  the  same. 

All  other  phenomena  of  the  moral  life,  all  the  so-called  virtues, 
may  be  shown  to  be  the  variations  of  these  three  essentials  or  the 
results  of  interaction  between  them  and  the  intellectual  side  of 
man.  Courage  and  fortitude , for  instance,  are  undoubtedly  exempli- 
fications— though  in  a more  external  and  superficial  form — of  the 
same  principle,  the  more  profound  and  significant  expression  of 
which  is  found  in  shame, — the  principle,  namely,  of  rising  above 
and  dominating  the  lower  material  nature.  Shame  (in  its  typical 
manifestation)  elevates  man  above  the  animal  instinct  o $ generic  self- 
preservation  ; courage  elevates  him  above  another  animal  instinct 
— that  of  personal  self-preservation.  But  apart  from  this  dis- 
tinction in  the  object  or  the  sphere  of  application,  these  two 
forms  of  one  and  the  same  moral  principle  differ  more  profoundly 
in  another  respect.  The  feeling  of  shame  necessarily  involves  a 
condemnation  of  that  with  which  it  is  associated  : that  of  which  I 
am  ashamed  is  declared  by  me,  in  and  through  the  very  act  of  being 
ashamed,  to  be  bad  or  wrong.  But  a courageous  feeling  or  action, 
on  the  contrary,  may  simply  express  the  nature  of  a given  individual, 
and,  as  such,  contains  no  condemnation  of  its  opposite.  For  this 
reason  courage  is  found  among  animals,  having  in  their  case  no 
moral  significance.  As  the  function  of  obtaining  and  assimilat- 
ing food  gets  more  complex  and  developed  it  becomes  in  some 
animals  the  destructive  predatory  instinct  which  may  sometimes 
outweigh  the  instinct  of  self-preservation.  This  domination  of  one 
instinct  over  another  is  precisely  what  is  meant  by  animal  courage. 
Its  presence  or  absence  is  simply  a natural  fact,  not  inwardly 
connected  with  any  self-valuation.  No  one  would  think  of 
saying  that  hares  or  hens  are  ashamed  of  their  timidity  ; courage- 
ous animals  when  they  happen  to  be  afraid  are  not  ashamed 
of  it  either — nor  do  they  boast  of  their  courage.  In  man,  too, 
the  quality  of  courage  as  such  is  essentially  of  that  character.  But 
owing  to  our  higher  nature  and  to  the  intervention  of  the  in- 
tellectual elements  this  quality  acquires  a new  meaning  which 
connects  it  with  the  root  of  the  distinctly  human  morality — with 
shame.  Man  is  conscious  of  courage  not  merely  as  of  the  pre- 
dominance of  the  predatory  instinct,  but  as  the  power  of  the  spirit 
to  rise  above  the  instinct  of  personal  self-preservation.  The 


THE  PRIMARY  DATA  OF  MORALITY  37 


presence  of  this  spiritual  power  is  recognised  as  a virtue,  and  the 
absence  of  it  is  condemned  as  shameful.  Thus  the  essential  kin- 
ship between  shame  and  courage  is  seen  in  the  fact  that  the 
absence  of  the  second  virtue  is  condemned  in  accordance  with  the 
standard  set  by  the  first  : a lack  of  courage  becomes  the  subject 
for  shame.  This  does  not  apply  with  the  same  force  to  other 
virtues  (charity,  justice,  humility,  piety,  etc.) ; their  absence  is 
generally  condemned  in  a different  way.  And,  when  judging 
other  people’s  feelings  and  actions,  malice,  injustice,  haughtiness, 
impiety  strike  us  rather  as  hateful  and  revolting  than  as  shameful  ; 
the  latter  definition  is  specially  restricted  to  cowardice  and 
voluptuousness,1  i.e.  to  such  vices  which  violate  the  dignity  of 
the  human  personality  as  such,  and  not  its  duties  to  others  or 
to  God. 

The  inner  dependence  of  other  human  virtues  upon  the  three 
ultimate  foundations  of  morality  will  be  shown  in  due  course. 

VI 

Of  the  three  ultimate,  foundations  of  the  moral  life,  one,  as  we 
have  seen,  belongs  exclusively  to  man  (shame),  another  (pity)  is  to 
a large  extent  found  among  animals,  and  the  third  (awe  or 
reverence  for  the  higher)  is  in  a small  degree  observed  in  some 
animals.  But  although  the  rudiments  of  moral  feeling  (of  the 
second  and  third  kind)  are  found  in  the  animal  world,  they  differ 
essentially  from  the  corresponding  feelings  in  man.  Animals 
may  be  good  or  bad,  but  the  distinction  between  good  and  evil  as 
such  does  not  exist  for  their  consciousness.  In  the  case  of  man 
this  knowledge  of  good  and  evil  is  given  immediately  in  the  feel- 
ing of  shame  that  is  distinctive  of  him,  and,  gradually  developing 
from  this  first  root  and  refining  its  concrete  and  sensuous  form, 
it  embraces  the  whole  of  human  conduct  in  the  form  of  con- 
science. We  have  seen  that  within  the  domain  of  man’s  moral 
relation  to  himself  or  to  his  own  nature,  the  feeling  of  shame  (which 
has  at  first  a distinctly  sexual  character)  remains  identical  in 
form  whether  it  is  opposed  to  the  instinct  of  generic  or  of  indi- 

1 A complex  wrong-doing  like  treason  is  recognised  both  as  revolting  and  as  shame- 
ful for  the  same  reason,  in  so  far  as  treason  includes  cowardice  which  prefers  secret 
treachery  to  open  enmity. 


38  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

vidual  self-preservation  : a cowardly  attachment  to  the  mortal 

life  is  as  shameful  as  giving  oneself  up  to  the  sexual  desire.  When 
from  the  relation  to  oneself  as  a separate  individual  and  a member 
of  a genus  we  pass  to  the  relations  to  other  people  and  to  God — 
relations  infinitely  more  complex,  varied,  and  changeable, — the 
moral  self- valuation  can  no  longer  remain  a simple  concrete 
sensation.  It  inevitably  passes  through  the  medium  of  abstract 
thought  and  assumes  the  new  form  of  conscience.  But  the  two 
facts  are  no  doubt  essentially  the  same.1  Shame  and  conscience 
use  different  language  and  on  different  occasions,  but  the  mean- 
ing of  their  deliverances  is  one  and  the  same  : this  is  not  good , this 
is  wrong , this  is  unworthy. 

This  is  the  meaning  of  shame  ; conscience  adds  to  it  the 
analytic  explanation,  “ if  you  do  this  wrong  or  unlawful  thing, 
you  will  be  guilty  of  evil,  sin,  crime.” 

The  voice  of  conscience,  in  determining  as  good  or  as  evil  our 
relations  to  our  neighbours  and  to  God,  alone  gives  them  a moral 
significance  which  otherwise  they  would  not  possess.  And  as 
conscience  is  simply  a development  of  shame,  the  whole  moral  life 
of  man  in  all  its  three  aspects  springs,  so  to  speak,  from  one  root — 
a root  that  is  distinctly  human  and  essentially  foreign  to  the 
animal  world. 

If  the  ultimate  foundation  of  conscience  is  the  feeling  of 
shame,  it  is  clear  that  animals  which  are  devoid  of  this  more 
elementary  feeling  cannot  possess  the  more  complex  development 
of  it — conscience.  The  presence  of  conscience  in  them  is  some- 
times deduced  from  the  fact  that  animals  which  have  done 
something  wrong  look  guilty.  But  this  conclusion  is  based  on  a 
misunderstanding — on  a confusion,  namely,  between  two  facts 
which,  as  we  know  from  our  own  experience,  are  essentially  distinct. 
The  moral  state  of  being  reproached  by  conscience,  or  the  state  of 
repentance,  has  an  analogy  in  the  intellectual  sphere  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  mistake  or  miscalculation,  i.e.  of  an  act  which  from 
the  utilitarian  or  the  practical  point  of  view  is  purposeless  or 
unprofitable  and  is  followed  by  a feeling  of  dissatisfaction  with 

1 The  expressions  mnie  stydno  (‘  I am  ashamed  ’)  and  mnie  soviestno  (‘  I am  conscience- 
stricken  ’)  are  used  in  the  Russian  language  as  synonymous,  and,  indeed,  from  the  nature 
of  the  case  it  is  impossible  to  draw  a sharp  line  of  demarcation  between  the  two  mental 
states. 


THE  PRIMARY  DATA  OF  MORALITY  39 


oneself.  These  two  facts  are  similar  in  form,  and  both  express 
themselves  externally  as  confusion  (physiologically  as  the  flushing  of 
the  face).  But  although  they  sometimes  coincide,  their  nature  is 
so  different  that  often  they  exist  separately  and  even  directly 
exclude  one  another.  Thus,  for  instance,  when  the  town-captain 
in  Gogol’s  Inspector  General  is  terribly  indignant  with  himself  for 
having  been  deceived  by  Hlestakov  and  not  having  deceived  the 
latter  instead,  or  when  a card-sharper  in  sudden  confusion  curses 
himself  for  not  having  been  clever  enough  at  cheating,  such  self- 
condemnation  obviously  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  awakening 
of  conscience,  but  rather  proves  an  inveterate  absence  of  con- 
science. Intellectual  self-condemnation  is  undoubtedly  present 
in  the  higher  animals.  When  a well-brought-up  dog  is  so  keenly 
conscious  of  its  own  misdemeanours  that  it  actually  tries  to  con- 
ceal them,  this  certainly  proves  its  intelligence,  but  has  no  relation 
whatever  to  its  conscience. 


VII 

The  highest  moral  doctrine  can  be  no  other  than  a complete 
and  correct  development  of  the  ultimate  data  of  human  morality, 
for  the  universal  demands  involved  in  them  cover  the  whole  sphere 
of  possible  human  relations.  But  it  is  precisely  the  universality 
of  these  relations  that  forbids  us  to  stop  at  establishing  their 
existence  as  simply  given  in  our  nature  and  renders  a further 
development  and  justification  of  them  necessary. 

The  primitive,  natural  morality  we  have  been  considering  is 
no  other  than  the  reaction  of  the  spiritual  nature  against  the 
lower  forces  — fleshly  lust,  egoism,  and  wild  passions  — which 
threaten  to  submerge  and  overpower  it.  The  capacity  for  such  a 
reaction  makes  man  a moral  being  ; but  if  the  actual  force  and  the 
extent  of  the  reaction  is  to  remain  indefinite,  it  cannot,  as  such,  be 
the  foundation  of  the  moral  order  in  the  human  world.  All  the 
actual  manifestations  of  our  moral  nature  are  merely  particular  and 
accidental  in  character.  Man  may  be  more  or  less  modest,  com- 
passionate, religious  : the  universal  norm  is  not  given  as  a fact. 
The  voice  of  conscience  itself  speaks  more  or  less  clearly  and 
insistently,  and  can  (in  so  far  as  it  is  a fact ) be  binding  only  to 
the  extent  to  which  it  is  heard  in  each  given  case. 


4o  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

But  reason,  which  is  as  innate  in  man  as  the  moral  feelings, 
from  the  first  puts  to  his  moral  nature  its  demand  for  universality 
and  necessity.  Rational  consciousness  cannot  rest  content  with 
the  accidental  existence  of  relatively  good  feelings  from  which  no 
general  rule  can  be  deduced.  The  primary  distinction  between 
good  and  evil  already  implies  an  idea  of  the  good  free  from  any 
limitations , containing  in  itself  an  absolute  norm  of  life  and  activity. 
In  the  form  of  a postulate  the  idea  of  the  good  is  inherent  in 
human  reason,  but  its  actual  content  is  determined  and  developed 
only  through  the  complex  work  of  thought. 

From  the  ultimate  data  of  morality  we  inevitably  pass  to  the 
general  principles  which  reason  deduces  from  them,  and  which  have 
in  turn  played  the  foremost  part  in  the  different  ethical  theories. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  ASCETIC  PRINCIPLE  IN  MORALITY 

I 

The  fundamental  moral  feeling  of  shame  psychologically  con- 
tains man’s  negative  relation  to  the  animal  nature  which  seeks  to 
overpower  him.  To  the  strongest  and  most  vivid  manifestation 
of  that  nature  the  human  spirit,  even  at  a low  stage  of  development, 
opposes  the  consciousness  of  its  own  dignity  : I am  ashamed  to 
submit  to  the  desire  of  the  flesh,  I am  ashamed  to  be  like  an  animal, 
the  lower  side  of  my  nature  must  not  dominate  me — such  domina- 
tion is  shameful  and  evil.  This  self-assertion  of  the  moral  dignity 
— half-conscious  and  unstable  in  the  simple  feeling  of  shame — is 
worked  up  by  reason  into  the  principle  of  asceticism. 

The  object  of  condemnation  in  asceticism  is  not  material  nature 
as  such.  From  no  point  of  view  can  it  be  rationally  maintained 
that  nature  considered  objectively — whether  in  its  essence  or  in 
its  appearances — is  evil.  It  is  usually  supposed  that  the  so-called 
Oriental  religions,  which  are  noted  for  extreme  asceticism,  are 
specially  characterised  by  their  identification  of  the  principle  of 
evil  with  physical  matter,  in  contradistinction  to  true  Christianity, 
which  finds  the  source  of  evil  in  the  moral  sphere.  But,  strictly 
speaking,  such  identification  is  not  to  be  found  in  any  system  of 
Oriental  philosophy  or  religion.  It  is  sufficient  to  mention  the 
three  most  typical  systems  of  India,  the  classical  country  of 
asceticism  — the  orthodox  Brahmin  Vedanta,1  the  independent 
Sankhya,  and,  finally,  Buddhism. 

1 It  assumed  its  present  form  only  about  the  time  when  Buddhism  disappeared  from 
India  (VIII.  and  XIII.  c.a.d.),  but  the  fundamental  conceptions  involved  in  it  are  to  be 
found  as  early  as  the  ancient  Upanishads. 


41 


42  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

According  to  the  Vedanta,  evil  is  illusion  of  the  mind,  which 
takes  material  objects  for  entities  separate  from  one  another  and 
from  the  self,  and  takes  the  self  to  be  an  entity  separate  from  the 
one  absolute  Being.  The  cause  of  this  illusion  is  the  one  ultimate 
Spirit  itself  (Paramatman)  which  suddenly,  in  a moment  of  incom- 
prehensible blindness  or  ignorance  (Avidya), conceived  the  possibility 
of  something  other  than  itself,  desired  that  other,  and  thus  fell  into 
an  illusory  duality,  from  which  sprang  the  world.  This  world 
does  not  exist  on  its  own  account  (as  external  to  the  One)  but  is 
erroneously  taken  so  to  exist — and  therein  lies  the  deception  and 
the  evil.  When  a traveller  in  the  wood  takes  the  chopped-off 
branch  of  a tree  for  a snake,  or,  vice  versa , a snake  for  a branch  of 
a tree,  neither  the  image  of  the  snake  nor  of  the  branch  is  in  itself 
evil  : what  is  evil  is  the  one  being  taken  for  the  other,  and  both 
being  taken  for  something  external  to  the  self.  The  ignorant 
think  that  their  evil  works  are  distinct  from  the  one  Reality. 
But  the  evil  deed,  the  evil  doer  himself,  and  the  false  thought  about 
their  separateness  are  all  part  of  the  one  absolute  and  ultimate 
Spirit  in  so  far  as  it  partly 1 is  in  the  state  of  ignorance.  Its 
self-identity  is  re-established  in  the  thought  of  the  wise  ascetics 
who  by  mortifying  the  flesh  have  conquered  in  themselves  the 
illusion  of  separateness  and  learnt  that  all  is  one.  According  to 
such  a system  of  thought  evil  clearly  cannot  belong  to  material 
nature,  for  that  nature  is  regarded  as  non-existent.  Its  reality  is 
acknowledged  in  another  important  Indian  system — in  the  in- 
dependent or  atheistic  Sankhya.  In  it  the  pure  spirit  (Purusha), 
existing  only  in  the  multitude  of  separate  entities,  is  opposed  to 
first  matter  or  nature  (Prakriti).  But  the  latter  is  not  as  such 
the  principle  of  wrong  or  of  evil  : evil  (and  that  only  in  the 
relative  sense)  is  in  the  abiding  connection  of  the  spirit  with  it. 
These  two  elements  must  be  connected,  but  only  in  a transient 
fashion  : nature  must  be  the  temporal  means,  and  not  the  purpose, 
of  the  spirit.  The  paralysed  man  who  can  see  (the  spirit)  must 
make  use  of  the  blind  athlete  (nature),  on  whose  shoulders  he  can 
attain  the  end  of  his  journey  ; but  once  the  end  is  reached,  they 
must  part.  The  end  of  the  spirit  is  self-knowledge — that  is, 

1 Some  Hindu  books  determine  the  ‘part’  of  ignorance  arithmetically  as  forming 
one-fourth  (or,  according  to  others,  one-third)  of  the  Absolute.  Probably  in  order  that 
the  relation  may  remain  unaltered  the  birth  of  the  ignorant  is  equalised  by  the  en- 
lightenment of  the  wise. 


THE  ASCETIC  PRINCIPLE  IN  MORALITY  43 


knowledge  of  itself  as  distinct  from  nature.  But  if  the  spirit  is  to 
learn  that  it  is  distinct  from  nature,  it  must  first  know  nature — 
and  this  is  the  only  justification  of  the  connection  between  the 
two.  Nature  is  the  dancer,  spirit  the  spectator.  She  has  shown 
herself,  he  has  seen  her,  and  they  may  part.  The  ascetic  who 
resists  natural  inclinations  is  simply  the  wise  man  who  refrains 
from  using  means  which  are  no  longer  necessary  once  the  end 
has  been  reached.  Orthodox  Brahmanism  affirms  that  only  the 
One  exists,  and  that  there  is  no  other  (the  principle  of  Advaitl — 
of  unity  or  indivisibility).  The  Sankhya  philosophy  admits  the 
existence  of  ‘ the  other  ’ — i.e.  of  nature — but  maintains  that  it  is 
foreign  to  the  spirit,  and,  once  a knowledge  of  it  has  been  attained, 
unnecessary.  Buddhism  reconciles  this  duality  in  a general  in- 
difference : spirit  and  nature,  the  One  and  its  other  are  equally 
illusory.  ‘ All  is  empty’  ; there  is  no  object  for  will  ; the  desire 
to  merge  one’s  spirit  in  the  absolute  is  as  senseless  as  the  desire 
for  physical  enjoyment.  Asceticism  is  here  reduced  to  a mere 
state  of  not  willing. 

Turning  from  the  Hindu  systems  to  a different  type  of 
philosophy  developed  in  Egypt,  we  find  that  the  striking  and 
original  form  it  finally  received  in  the  gnosticism  of  Valentine’s 
school,  involved  a conception  of  the  natural  world  as  mixed  and 
heterogeneous  in  character.  The  world  is,  in  the  first  place,  the 
creation  of  the  evil  principle  (Satan),  secondly,  the  creation  of  the 
neutral  and  unconscious  Demiurgus  who  is  neither  good  nor  evil, 
and  thirdly,  it  contains  manifestations  of  the  heavenly  Wisdom 
fallen  from  higher  spheres.  Thus,  the  visible  light  of  our  world 
was  taken  by  the  thinkers  in  question  to  be  the  smile  of  Sophia 
remembering  the  celestial  radiance  of  the  Pleroma  (the  absolute 
fulness  of  being)  she  had  forsaken.  Materiality  as  such  was  not, 
then,  regarded  by  the  Gnostics  as  evil  ; light  is  material  and  yet  it 
is  a manifestation  of  the  good  principle.  Matter  is  not  created  by 
Satan  because  it  is  in  itself  evil,  but,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  evil  only 
in  so  far  as  it  is  created  by  Satan,  i.e.  in  so  far  as  it  manifests  or 
externally  expresses  the  inward  nature  of  evil — in  so  far  as  it  is 
darkness,  disorder,  destruction,  death — or,  in  a word,  chaos. 

The  Persian  system  of  thought  (Manicheism),  which  is  more 
pronouncedly  dualistic,  no  more  identifies  material  nature  with  evil 
than  does  the  Egyptian  gnosis.  The  natural  world  contains  the 


44  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

element  of  light,  which  proceeds  from  the  divine  kingdom  of  the 
good  ; this  element  is  manifested  in  the  phenomena  of  light  and 
is  also  present  in  vegetable  and  animal  life.  The  highest  godhead  is 
imagined  by  the  Manicheans  in  no  other  form  than  that  of  light. 

None  of  these  ‘ Oriental  ’ systems,  then,  are  guilty  of  the 
meaningless  identification  of  evil  with  material  nature  as  such. 
But  the  contention  that  there  is  evil  in  the  material  nature  of  the 
world  and  of  man  would  be  granted  by  all  the  earnest  thinkers  both 
of  the  East  and  the  West.  This  truth  does  not  depend  upon  any 
metaphysical  conception  of  matter  and  nature.  We  ourselves 
share  in  material  nature  and  can  know  from  our  own  inner 
experience  in  what  respect  nature  can,  and  in  what  respect  it 
cannot,  satisfy  the  demands  of  the  spirit. 

II 

In  spite  of  Plotinus’s  well-known  assertion  to  the  contrary, 
the  normal  man  of  the  highest  degree  of  spiritual  development  is 
not  in  the  least  ashamed  of  being  a corporeal  or  material  entity. 
No  one  is  ashamed  of  having  an  extended  body  of  a definite  shape, 
colour,  and  weight  ; that  is,  we  are  not  ashamed  of  all  that  we 
have  in  common  with  a stone,  a tree,  a piece  of  metal.  It  is  only 
in  relation  to  characteristics  we  have  in  common  with  beings 
which  approach  us  most  nearly  and  belong  to  the  kingdom  of 
nature  contiguous  to  us,  that  we  have  the  feeling  of  shame  and  of 
inner  opposition.  And  this  feeling  shows  that  it  is  when  we  are 
essentially  in  contact  with  the  material  life  of  the  world  and  may 
be  actually  submerged  by  it,  that  we  must  wrench  ourselves  away 
from  and  rise  above  it.  The  feeling  of  shame  is  excited  neither 
by  that  part  of  our  corporeal  being  which  has  no  direct  relation 
to  the  spirit  at  all  (such  as  the  above-mentioned  material  qualities 
which  the  spirit  has  in  common  with  inanimate  objects),  nor  by 
that  part  of  the  living  organism  which  serves  as  the  chief  expression 
of  the  specifically  human  rational  life — the  head,  the  face,  the 
hands,  etc.  The  object  of  shame  is  only  that  part  of  our  material 
being  which,  though  immediately  related  to  the  spirit,  since  it  can 
inwardly  affect  it,  is  not  an  expression  or  an  instrument  of  the 
spiritual  life,  but  is,  on  the  contrary,  a means  whereby  the  pro- 
cesses of  purely  animal  life  seek  to  drag  the  human  spirit  down 


THE  ASCETIC  PRINCIPLE  IN  MORALITY  45 


into  their  sphere,  to  master  and  overpower  it.  The  reaction  of 
the  spiritual  principle,  which  finds  an  immediate  expression  in  the 
feeling  of  shame,  is  evoked  by  material  life  thus  encroaching  upon 
the  rational  being  of  man  and  seeking  to  make  him  into  a passive 
instrument  of  or  a useless  appendage  to  the  physical  process.  The 
rational  affirmation  of  a certain  moral  norm  assumes  psychologically 
the  form  of  fear  to  violate  it  or  of  sorrow  at  having  violated  it 
already.  The  norm  logically  presupposed  by  the  feeling  of  shame, 
is,  when  expressed  in  its  most  general  form,  as  follows  : the  animal 
life  in  man  must  be  subordinate  to  the  spiritual.  This  judgment  is 
apodictically  certain,  for  it  is  a correct  deduction  from  fact  and  is 
based  on  the  logical  law  of  identity.  The  very  fact  of  man’s 
shame  at  being  merely  animal  proves  that  he  is  not  a mere  animal, 
but  is  also  something  else  and  something  higher  ; for  if  he  were 
on  the  same  or  on  a lower  level,  shame  would  be  meaningless. 
Looking  at  the  matter  from  the  formal  side  alone  it  cannot  be 
doubted  that  clear  consciousness  is  better  than  blind  instinct,  that 
spiritual  self-control  is  better  than  the  surrender  to  the  physical 
process.  And  if  man  unites  in  himself  two  different  elements 
related  as  the  higher  and  the  lower,  the  demand  for  the  subordina- 
tion of  the  latter  to  the  former  follows  from  the  very  nature  of  the 
case.  The  fact  of  shame  is  independent  of  individual,  racial,  and 
other  peculiarities  ; the  demand  contained  in  it  is  of  a universal 
character  ; and  this,  in  conjunction  with  the  logical  necessity  of 
that  demand,  makes  it  in  the  full  sense  of  the  term  a moral  principle. 

Ill 

Man,  like  the  animals,  participates  in  the  life  of  the  universe. 
The  essential  difference  between  the  two  lies  simply  in  the  manner 
of  the  participation.  The  animal,  being  endowed  with  conscious- 
ness, shares  inwardly  and  psychically  in  the  processes  of  nature 
which  hold  it  under  their  sway.  It  knows  which  of  them  are 
pleasant  or  unpleasant,  it  instinctively  feels  what  is  detrimental  to 
itself  or  to  the  species.  But  this  is  true  only  with  reference  to 
the  environment  which  immediately  affects  the  animal  at  a given 
time.  The  world  process  as  a whole  does  not  exist  for  the  animal 
soul.  It  can  know  nothing  of  the  reasons  and  ends  of  that  process, 
and  its  participation  in  it  is  purely  passive  or  instrumental.  Man, 


46  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

on  the  other  hand,  passes  judgment  on  the  part  he  takes  in  the 
world  process,  both  with  reference  to  the  given  events  that  affect 
him  as  psychological  motives , and  to  the  general  principle  of  all 
activity.  That  principle  is  the  idea  of  worth  or  of  lack  of  worth, 
of  good  or  of  evil,  and  it  can  itself  become  the  ground  or  the 
motive  of  human  activity.  This  higher  consciousness  or  inward 
self-valuation  places  man  in  a definite  relation  to  the  world  process 
as  a whole , the  relation,  namely,  of  actively  participating  in  its 
purpose  ; for  in  determining  all  his  actions  by  the  idea  of  the  good, 
man  shares  in  the  universal  life  only  in  so  far  as  its  purpose  is  the 
good.  But  since  this  higher  consciousness  as  a fact  grows  out  of 
the  material  nature  and  exists,  so  to  speak,  at  its  expense,  that  lower 
nature  or  the  animal  soul  in  man  is  naturally  opposed  to  it.  There 
thus  arise  two  conflicting  tendencies  in  our  life — the  spiritual  and 
the  carnal.1  The  spiritual  principle,  as  it  immediately  appears  to 
our  present  consciousness,  is  a distinct  tendency  or  process  in  our 
life,  directed  towards  realising  in  the  whole  of  our  being  the 
rational  idea  of  the  good.  Likewise  the  carnal  principle  with 
which  in  our  inner  experience  we  are  concerned,  is  not  the 
physical  organism  nor  even  the  animal  soul  as  such,  but  merely  a 
tendency  excited  in  that  soul,  and  opposed  to  the  higher  conscious- 
ness, seeking  to  overpower  and  to  drown  in  the  material  process 
the  beginnings  of  spiritual  life. 

In  this  case  material  nature  is  indeed  evil,  for  it  tries  to  destroy 
that  which  is  worthy  of  being  and  which  contains  the  possibility 
of  something  different  from  and  better  than  the  material  life. 
Not  in  itself,  but  only  in  this  bad  relation  to  the  spirit,  man’s 
material  nature  is  what  in  scriptural  terminology  is  called  the  flesh. 

The  idea  of  ‘ flesh’  must  not  be  confused  with  the  idea  of  ‘ body.’ 
Even  from  the  ascetic  point  of  view  body  is  the  temple  of  the 
spirit ; bodies  may  be  ‘spiritual,’  ‘ glorified,’  ‘ heavenly,’  but  ‘ flesh 
and  blood  cannot  inherit  the  kingdom  of  heaven.’ 2 Flesh  is 
excited  animality,  animality  that  breaks  loose  from  its  bounds  and 

1 This  is  a fact  of  our  inner  experience,  and  neither  its  psychological  reality  nor  its 
ethical  significance  depend  upon  the  metaphysical  or  any  other  view  which  may  be 
taken  of  the  essence  of  spirit  and  matter. 

2 Sometimes  in  the  Scriptures  the  word  ‘ flesh’  is  used  in  the  wide  sense  of  material 
being  in  general  : e.g.  ‘The  word  became  flesh,’  i.e.  became  a physical  event,  which  did 
not  prevent  the  incarnate  Word  from  being  a purely  spiritual  and  sinless  God-man.  But 
usually  the  terms  flesh  and  fleshly  are  used  in  the  Scriptures  in  the  bad  sense  of  material 


THE  ASCETIC  PRINCIPLE  IN  MORALITY  47 

ceases  to  be  the  matter  or  the  hidden  (potential)  foundation  of  the 
spiritual  life — as  the  animal  life  ought  to  be  both  on  its  physical 
and  on  its  mental  side. 

At  the  elementary  stages  of  his  development  man  is  a 
spiritual  being  potentially  rather  than  actually  ; and  it  is  just 
this  potentiality  of  a higher  spiritual  life,  manifested  as  self- 
consciousness  and  self-control  in  opposition  to  blind  and  un- 
controlled physical  nature,  that  is  endangered  by  fleshly  lust. 
Flesh,  i.e.  matter  which  has  ceased  to  be  passive  and  is  striving 
for  independence  and  infinity,  seeks  to  attract  the  spiritual  power 
to  itself,  to  drag  it  in  and  absorb  it  in  itself,  increasing  its  own 
power  at  its  expense.  This  is  possible  because,  as  incarnate,  as 
actually  manifested  in  the  concrete  man,  spirit,  or  rather  the 
life  of  spirit,  is  only  a transformation  of  material  existence 
(more  immediately,  of  the  animal  soul),  although  in  their  ideal 
essence  spirit  and  matter  are  heterogeneous.  Regarded  con- 
cretely, spiritual  and  material  being  are  two  kinds  of  energy 
which  can  be  transformed  into  one  another — just  as  mechanical 
motion  can  be  transformed  into  heat  and  vice  versa.  The 
flesh  [i.e.  the  animal  soul  as  such)  is  strong  only  in  the  weakness 
of  the  spirit  and  lives  only  by  its  death.  Therefore,  for  the 
spirit  to  preserve  itself  and  to  increase  in  power,  the  flesh  must 
be  subdued  and  transferred  from  the  actual  to  the  potential 
state.  This  is  the  real  meaning  of  the  moral  law  that  flesh 
must  be  subordinate  to  the  spirit,  and  the  true  basis  of  all  moral 
asceticism. 

IV 

The  moral  demand  to  subordinate  the  flesh  to  the  spirit 
conflicts  with  the  actual  striving  of  the  flesh  to  subject  the 
spirit  to  itself.  Consequently  the  ascetic  principle  has  a double 
aspect.  It  requires  in  the  first  place  that  the  spiritual  life  should 
be  safeguarded  from  the  encroachments  of  the  flesh,  and  secondly, 
that  the  animal  life  should  be  made  merely  the  potentiality  or 
the  matter  of  the  spirit.  Owing  to  the  intimate  inner  con- 


nature  which  violates  its  due  relation  to  the  spirit,  is  opposed  to  and  exclusive  of  it. 
Such  terminology  is  found  both  in  the  New  and  in  the  Old  Testament  ; e.g.  “My  spirit 
shall  not  dwell  in  these  men  for  they  are  flesh.” 


48  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


nection  and  constant  interaction  between  the  spiritual  and  the 
carnal  aspects  of  the  human  being  as  a whole,  these  two 
demands — the  preservation  of  the  spirit  from  the  flesh  and  the 
realisation  of  the  spirit  in  the  flesh — cannot  be  fulfilled  separately, 
but  inevitably  pass  into  one  another.  In  actual  life  spirit  can 
defend  itself  against  the  encroachments  of  the  flesh  only  at  the 
expense  of  the  latter,  that  is,  by  being  partially  realised  in  it  ; at 
the  same  time  the  realisation  of  the  spirit  is  only  possible  on  the 
condition  of  its  constantly  defending  itself  against  the  continued 
attempts  of  the  flesh  to  destroy  its  independence. 

The  three  chief  moments  in  this  process  are : (i)  the 
distinction  which  the  spirit  inwardly  draws  between  itself  and  the 
flesh  ; (2)  the  struggle  of  the  spirit  for  its  independence  ; (3)  the 
supremacy  achieved  by  the  spirit  over  nature  or  the  annihilation 
of  the  evil  carnal  principle  as  such.  The  first  moment,  which 
is  characteristic  of  man  in  contradistinction  to  animals,  is  directly 
given  in  the  feeling  of.shame.  The  third,  being  the  consequence 
of  the  moral  perfection  already  attained,  cannot  at  the  present 
stage  be  the  direct  object  of  the  moral  demand  or  rule.  It  is 
useless  to  confront  even  a moral  man,  while  he  is  still  imperfect, 
with  the  categorical  imperative  “become  at  once  immortal  and 
incorruptible  ! ” Thus  only  the  second  moment  is  left  for  ethics, 
and  our  moral  principle  may  be  more  closely  defined  as  follows  : 
subordinate  the  flesh  to  the  spirit , in  so  far  as  it  is  necessary  for  the 
dignity  and  the  independence  of  the  latter.  Hoping  finally  for  a 
complete  mastery  over  the  physical  forces  in  yourself  and  in  nature 
as  a whole , take  for  your  immediate  and  binding  purpose  not  to  be , 
at  any  rate , the  bondman  of  rebellious  matter  or  chaos. 

Flesh  is  existence  that  is  not  self-contained,  that  is  wholly 
directed  outwards  ; it  is  emptiness,  hunger,  and  insatiability  ; it 
is  lost  in  externality  and  ends  in  actual  disruption.  In  contradis- 
tinction to  it,  spirit  is  existence  determined  inwardly,  self-contained 
and  self-possessed.  Its  outward  expression  is  due  to  its  own 
spontaneity,  and  does  not  cause  it  to  become  external  or  to  be 
lost  and  dissolved  in  externality.  Hence  self-preservation  of  the 
spirit  is,  above  all  things,  the  preservation  of  its  self-control. 
This  is  the  main  point  of  all  asceticism. 

The  human  body,  in  its  anatomic  structure  and  physiological 
functions,  has  no  moral  significance  of  its  own.  It  may  be  the 


THE  ASCETIC  PRINCIPLE  IN  MORALITY  49 

expression  and  the  instrument  both  of  the  flesh  and  of  the 
spirit.  Hence  the  moral  struggle  between  these  two  aspects  or 
our  being  takes  place  in  the  domain  of  the  bodily  or  the  organic 
life  as  well,  and  assumes  the  form  of  a struggle  for  the  mastery 
over  the  body. 

V 

With  regard  to  the  corporeal  life  our  moral  task  consists  in 
not  being  passively  determined  by  fleshly  desires,  especially  in 
reference  to  the  two  most  important  functions  of  our  organism — 
nutrition  and  reproduction. 

By  way  of  preliminary  exercise,  which  in  itself,  however,  has 
no  moral  value,  it  is  important  for  the  spirit  to  acquire  power 
over  such  functions  of  our  animal  organism  as  are  not  directly 
related  to  the  ‘ lusts  of  the  flesh  ’ — namely,  over  breathing  and 
sleep.1 

Breathing  is  the  fundamental  condition  of  life  and  the 
constant  means  of  communication  between  our  body  and  its 
environment.  For  the  power  of  the  spirit  over  the  body  it  is 
desirable  that  this  fundamental  function  should  be  under  the 
control  of  the  human  will.  Consequently  there  arose  long 
ago  and  everywhere  different  ascetic  practices  with  regard  to 
breathing.  The  practice  and  theory  of  breathing  exercises  is 
found  among  the  Indian  hermits,  among  the  sorcerers  of  ancient 
and  more  recent  times,  among  the  monks  of  Mount  Athos  and 
similar  monasteries,  in  Swedenborg,  and,  in  our  own  day,  in 
Thomas  Lake-Harris  and  Laurence  Oliphant.  The  mystical 
details  of  the  matter  have  nothing  to  do  with  moral  philosophy. 
I will  therefore  content  myself  with  a few  general  remarks.  A 
certain  control  of  the  will  over  breathing  is  required  by  ordinary 
good  manners.  For  ascetic  purposes  one  merely  goes  further  in 
this  direction.  By  constant  exercise  it  is  easy  to  learn  not  to 
breathe  through  the  mouth  either  when  awake  or  when  asleep  ; 
the  next  stage  is  to  learn  to  suppress  breathing  altogether  for  a 
longer  or  shorter  time.2  The  power  acquired  over  this  organic 

1 I mean  normal  sleep  ; abnormal  will  be  dealt  with  further  on. 

2 The  so-called  ‘nostril  breathing,’  and  also  complete  stoppage  of  breathing,  used 
to  be,  and  in  places  still  is  zealously  practised  by  Orthodox  ascetics,  as  one  of  the 
conditions  of  the  so-called  ‘meditation.’ 


E 


50  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


function  undoubtedly  increases  the  strength  of  the  spirit  and 
gives  it  a secure  foundation  for  further  ascetic  achievements. 

Sleep  is  a temporal  break  in  the  activity  of  the  brain  and  of 
the  nervous  system — the  direct  physiological  instruments  of  the 
spirit— and  it  therefore  weakens  the  tie  between  the  spiritual 
and  the  bodily  life.  It  is  important  that  the  spirit  should  not 
in  this  case  play  a purely  passive  part.  If  sleep  is  caused  by 
physical  causes,  the  spirit  must  be  able,  for  motives  of  its  own, 
to  ward  it  off,  or  to  interrupt  sleep  that  has  already  begun. 
The  very  difficulty  of  this  task,  which  is  undoubtedly  a possible 
one,  shows  its  importance.  The  power  to  overcome  sleep  and 
to  wake  at  will  is  a necessary  demand  of  spiritual  hygiene. 
Moreover,  sleep  has  another  aspect,  which  distinguishes  it  from 
breathing  and  other  organic  functions  that  are  in  the  moral 
sense  indifferent,  and  connects  it  with  nutrition  and  reproduction. 
Like  the  two  latter  functions  sleep  may  be  misused  to  the 
advantage  of  the  carnal  and  to  the  detriment  of  the  spiritual 
life.  The  inclination  to  excessive  sleep  in  itself  shows  the 
predominance  of  the  material  or  the  passive  principle  ; a sur- 
render to  this  inclination  and  actual  abuse  of  sleep  undoubtedly 
weaken  the  spirit  and  strengthen  the  lusts  of  the  flesh.  This 
is  the  reason  why  in  the  history  of  ascetic  practices  — for 
instance  in  Christian  monasticism — struggle  with  sleep  plays 
so  important  a part.  Of  course,  the  loosening  of  the  bond 
between  the  spiritual  and  the  corporeal  life  (or  more  exactly 
between  the  conscious  and  the  instinctive  life)  may  be  of  two 
kinds  : sleepers  must  be  distinguished  from  dreamers.  But  as  a 
general  rule  a special  faculty  to  dream  significant  and  prophetic 
dreams  indicates  a degree  of  spiritual  power  that  has  been  already 
developed  by  ascetic  practices — struggle  with  the  pleasure  of 
carnal  sleep  among  them. 

VI 

In  animals  the  predominance  of  matter  over  form  is  due  to 
excess  of  food,  as  can  be  clearly  seen  in  caterpillars  among  the 
lower,  and  fattened  pigs  among  the  higher,  animals.1  In  man  the 
same  cause  (excess  of  food)  leads  to  a predominance  of  the  animal 

1 See  Krasota  -v  prnodie  ( Beauty  in  Nature)  by  the  present  author. 


THE  ASCETIC  PRINCIPLE  IN  MORALITY  51 


life,  or  the  flesh,  over  the  spirit.  This  is  why  abstinence  in  food 
and  drink — fasting — has  always  and  everywhere  been  one  of  the 
fundamental  demands  of  ethics.  Abstinence  has  reference,  in 
the  first  place,  to  the  quantity— with  regard  to  which  there  can  be 
no  general  rule — and  secondly,  to  the  quality  of  food.  In  this 
last  respect  the  rule  has  always  and  everywhere  been  abstinence 
from  animal  food  and  especially  from  meat  [i.e.  from  the  flesh  of 
warm-blooded  animals).  The  reason  is  that  meat  is  more  easily 
and  completely  converted  into  blood,  and  increases  the  energy  of 
the  carnal  life  more  powerfully  and  rapidly  than  other  foods  do.1 
Abstinence  from  flesh  food  can  unquestionably  be  affirmed  as  a 
universal  rule.  Objections  to  it  cannot  stand  the  test  of  criticism, 
and  have  long  ago  been  disposed  of  both  by  ethics  and  by  natural 
science.  There  was  a time  when  eating  raw  or  cooked  human 
flesh  was  regarded  as  normal.2  From  the  ascetic  point  of  view 
abstinence  from  meat  (and  animal  food  in  general)  is  doubly 
useful,  first,  because  it  weakens  the  force  of  the  carnal  life,  and 
secondly,  because  the  hereditary  habit  has  developed  a natural 
craving  for  such  food,  and  abstinence  from  it  exercises  the  will 
at  the  expense  of  material  inclinations  and  thus  heightens  the 
spiritual  energy. 

As  to  drinking,  the  simplest  good  sense  forbids  excessive  use 
of  strong  drinks  that  leads  to  the  loss  of  reason.  The  ascetic 
principle  requires,  of  course,  more  than  this.  Speaking  generally, 
wine  heightens  the  energy  of  the  nervous  system,  and,  through 
it,  of  the  psychical  life.  At  our  stage  of  spiritual  development 
the  soul  is  still  dominated  by  carnal  motives,  and  all  that  excites 
and  increases  the  nervous  energy  in  the  service  of  the  soul  goes 
to  strengthen  this  predominant  carnal  element,  and  is  therefore 
highly  injurious  to  the  spirit  ; so  that  here  complete  abstinence 
from  wine  and  strong  drink  is  necessary.  But  at  the  higher 

1 Another  moral  motive  for  abstaining  from  meat  food  is  not  ascetic  but  altruistic, 
namely,  the  extension  to  animals  of  the  law  of  love  or  pity.  This  motive  is  pre- 
dominant in  the  ethics  of  Buddhism  and  the  ascetic  one  in  the  Christian  Church. 

2 According  to  the  Biblical  teaching  the  food  of  the  normal  human  being  before  the 
Fall  consisted  solely  of  raw  fruits  and  herbs.  This  is  still  the  rule  for  the  strictest 
monastic  fast,  both  in  the  East  and  in  the  West  (the  trappists).  Between  this  extreme 
and  the  light  Roman  Catholic  fast  for  the  laity  there  are  many  degrees  which  have  a 
natural  foundation  ( e.g . the  distinction  between  the  warm-  and  the  cold-blooded  animals, 
owing  to  which  fish  is  regarded  as  a food  to  be  taken  during  fasts)  but  involve  no 
question  of  principle  and  have  no  universal  significance. 


52  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

stages  of  moral  life  which  were  sometimes  attained  even  in  the 
pagan  world — for  instance  by  Socrates  (see  Plato’s  Symposium) — 
the  energy  of  the  organism  serves  the  spiritual  rather  than  the 
carnal  purposes.  In  that  case  the  increase  of  nervous  energy  (of 
course  within  the  limits  compatible  with  bodily  health)  heightens 
the  activity  of  the  spirit  and  therefore,  in  a certain  measure,  may 
be  harmless  or  even  directly  useful.  There  can  be  here  only  one 
absolute  and  universal  rule  to  preserve  spiritual  sobriety  and  a clear 
mind} 

The  most  important  and  decisive  significance  in  the  struggle 
of  the  spirit  with  the  flesh  in  the  physiological  sphere  belongs  to 
the  sexual  function.  The  element  of  moral  wrong  (the  sin  of 
the  flesh)  is  not  to  be  found  of  course  in  the  physical  fact  of 
childbirth  (and  conception)  which  is,  on  the  contrary,  a certain 
redemption  of  the  sin — but  only  in  the  unlimited  and  blind  desire 
(lust  of  the  flesh,  concupiscentia ) for  an  external,  animal,  and 
material  union  with  another  person  (in  reality  or  imagination),  a 
union  taken  to  be  an  end  in  itself,  an  independent  object  of  en- 
joyment. The  predominance  of  flesh  over  spirit  expresses  itself 
most  strongly,  clearly,  and  permanently  in  the  carnal  union  of  two 
persons.  It  is  not  for  nothing  that  the  immediate  feeling  of 
shame  is  connected  precisely  with  this  act.  To  stifle  or  to 
pervert  its  testimony  ; after  many  thousands  of  years  of  inward 
and  outward  development,  and  from  the  heights  of  a refined  in- 
telligence to  pronounce  good  that  which  even  the  simple  feeling  of 
the  savage  acknowledges  to  be  wrong — this  is,  indeed,  a disgrace 
to  humanity  and  a clear  proof  of  our  demoralisation.  The  actual 
or  the  supposed  necessity  of  a certain  act  for  other  purposes  can- 
not be  a sufficient  reason  for  judging  of  its  essential  quality  as 
such.  In  some  diseases  it  may  be  necessary  to  take  poison,  but 
that  necessity  is  itself  an  anomaly  from  the  hygienic  point  of 
view. 

The  moral  question  with  regard  to  the  sexual  function  is  in 
the  first  place  the  question  of  one’s  inner  relation  to  it,  of  passing 


1 At  the  present  moral  level  of  humanity  the  mastery  of  the  carnal  desires  is  the 
rule,  and  the  predominance  of  spiritual  motives  the  exception,  and  one  not  to  be  de- 
pended upon  ; so  that  total  abstinence  from  strong  drinks  and  all  other  stimulants  may 
well  be  preached  without  any  practical  disadvantage.  But  this  is  a pedagogical  and  pro- 
phylactic question  involving  no  moral  principle. 


THE  ASCETIC  PRINCIPLE  IN  MORALITY  53 

judgment  upon  it  as  such.  How  are  we  inwardly  to  regard  this 
fact  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  final  norm,  of  the  absolute 
good — are  we  to  approve  of  it  or  to  condemn  it  ? Which  path 
must  we  choose  and  follow  in  respect  to  it  : to  affirm  and  develop 
or  to  deny,  limit,  and  finally  to  abolish  it  ? The  feeling  of  shame 
and  the  voice  of  conscience  in  each  concrete  case  definitely  and 
clearly  give  the  second  answer,  and  all  that  is  left  for  the  moral 
philosophy  to  do  is  to  give  it  the  form  of  a universal  rational 
principle.  The  carnal  means  of  reproduction  is  for  man  an  evil  ; 
it  expresses  the  predominance  of  the  senseless  material  process 
over  the  self-control  of  the  spirit  ; it  is  contrary  to  the  dignity  of 
man,  destructive  of  human  love  and  life.  Our  moral  relation  to 
this  fact  must  be  absolutely  negative.  We  must  adopt  the  path 
that  leads  to  its  limitation  and  abolition  ; how  and  when  it  will 
be  abolished  in  humanity  as  a whole  or  even  in  ourselves  is  a 
question  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  ethics.  The  entire  trans- 
formation of  our  carnal  life  into  spiritual  life  does  not  as  an  event 
lie  within  our  power,  for  it  is  connected  with  the  general  con- 
ditions of  the  historical  and  cosmical  process.  It  cannot  therefore 
be  the  object  of  moral  duty,  rule,  or  law.  What  is  binding  upon 
us,  and  what  has  moral  significance,  is  our  inner  relation  to  this 
fundamental  expression  of  the  carnal  life.  We  must  regard  it  as 
an  evil,  be  determined  not  to  submit  to  that  evil,  and,  so  far  as  in 
us  lies,  conscientiously  carry  out  this  determination.  From  this 
point  of  view  we  may  of  course  judge  our  external  actions,  but 
we  may  only  do  so  because  we  know  their  connection  with  their 
inner  moral  conditions  ; other  people’s  actions  in  this  sphere  we 
may  not  judge — we  may  only  judge  their  principles.  As  a 
principle  the  affirmation  of  the  carnal  relation  of  the  sexes  is  in 
any  case  an  evil.  Man’s  final  acceptance  of  the  kingdom  of 
death  which  is  maintained  and  perpetuated  by  carnal  repro- 
duction deserves  absolute  condemnation.  Such  is  the  positive 
Christian  point  of  view  which  decides  this  all-important  ques- 
tion according  to  the  spirit  and  not  according  to  the  letter, 
and  consequently  without  any  external  exclusiveness.  “ He 
that  is  able  to  receive  it,  let  him  receive  it.”  Marriage  is 
approved  and  sanctified,  child-bearing  is  blessed,  and  celibacy 
is  praised  as  ‘ the  condition  of  the  angels.’  But  this  very  de- 
signation of  it  as  angelic  seems  to  suggest  a third  and  higher 


54  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

path — the  divine.  For  man  in  his  ultimate  destiny  is  higher 
than  the  angels.1 

If  the  Divine  Wisdom,  according  to  its  wont,  brings  forth 
out  of  evil  a greater  good  and  uses  our  carnal  sins  for  the  sake  of 
perfecting  humanity  by  means  of  new  generations,  this,  of  course, 
tends  to  its  glory  and  to  our  comfort,  but  not  to  our  justification. 
It  treats  in  exactly  the  same  way  all  other  evils,  but  this  fact 
cancels  neither  the  distinction  between  good  and  evil  nor  the 
obligatoriness  of  the  former  for  us.  Besides,  the  idea  that  the 
preaching  of  sexual  abstinence,  however  energetic  and  successful, 
may  prematurely  stop  the  propagation  of  the  human  race  and  lead 
to  its  annihilation  is  so  absurd  that  one  may  justly  doubt  the 
sincerity  of  those  who  profess  to  hold  it.  It  is  not  likely  that 
any  one  can  seriously  fear  this  particular  danger  for  humanity. 
So  long  as  the  change  of  generations  is  necessary  for  the  develop- 
ment of  the  human  kind,  the  taste  for  bringing  that  change  about 
will  certainly  not  disappear  in  men.  But  in  any  case,  the  moment 
when  all  men  will  finally  overcome  the  fleshly  lust  and  become 
entirely  chaste — even  if  that  moment,  per  impossible,  came  to- 
morrow— will  be  the  end  of  the  historical  process  and  the  begin- 
ning of  ‘the  life  to  come’  for  all  humanity;  so  that  the  very 
idea  of  child-bearing  coming  to  an  end  ‘ too  soon  ’ is  absolute 
nonsense,  invented  by  hypocrites.  As  if  any  one,  in  surrendering 
to  the  desire  of  the  flesh,  had  ever  thought  of  safeguarding  thereby 
the  future  of  humanity  ! 2 


VII 

All  the  rules  of  ascetic  morality  in  the  sphere  of  the  bodily 
life — to  acquire  power  over  breathing  and  sleep,  to  be  temperate  in 
food  and  to  abstain  from  fleshly  lust — have  essentially  an  inward 
and  morally  psychological  character,  as  rules  for  the  will ; but 
owing  to  the  difference  in  their  objects  they  do  not  stand  in  the 

1 See  Smysl  liubni  ( The  Meaning  of  Lone)  and  also  Zhiznennaya  drama  Platona  ( The 
Drama  of  Plato's  Life). 

2 I am  not  speaking  here  of  the  marriage  union  in  its  highest  spiritual  3ense,  which 
has  nothing  to  do  either  with  the  sin  of  the  flesh  or  with  child-bearing,  but  is  the 
pattern  of  the  most  perfect  union  between  beings  : “ This  is  a great  mystery  ; but  I 
speak  concerning  Christ  and  the  Church.”  Concerning  this  mystical  meaning  of 
marriage  see  The  Meaning  of  Lone. 


THE  ASCETIC  PRINCIPLE  IN  MORALITY  55 


.same  relation  to  the  psychological  side  of  the  carnal  life.  The 
first  and  partly  the  second  rule  (with  regard  to  breathing  and 
sleep)  have  for  their  object  purely  physiological  functions  which 
are  not,  as  such,  hostile  to  the  spirit,  nor  a source  of  danger  to  it. 
The  spirit  simply  wants  to  control  them  for  the  sake  of  increas- 
ing its  own  power  for  the  more  important  struggle  before  it. 
Nutrition  and  reproduction — and  consequently  the  ascetic  rules 
with  regard  to  them — have  a different  character.  The  positive 
feeling  of  pleasure  which  accompanies  these  functions  may 
become  an  end  for  the  will,  bind  the  spiritual  forces  and  draw 
them  into  the  stream  of  the  carnal  life.  The  latter  of  the  two 
functions  is  particularly  incompatible  (under  ordinary  conditions) 
with  the  preservation  of  spiritual  self-control.  On  the  other 
hand,  breathing  and  sleep  are  merely  processes  in  our  own 
organism,  while  nutrition  and  reproduction  are  connected  with 
external  objects  which,  apart  from  their  actual  existence  and 
relation  to  us,  may,  as  subjective  presentations , dominate  the 
imagination  and  the  will  and  encroach  on  the  domain  of  the 
spirit ; hence  the  necessity  of  ascetic  struggle  with  the  inward 
sins  of  the  flesh,  still  more  shameful  than  the  outward.  An 
epicure  whose  mouth  waters  at  the  very  idea  of  recherche  dishes, 
no  doubt  falls  away  from  human  dignity  more  than  a person 
who  indulges  himself  at  the  table  without  particularly  thinking 
about  the  matter. 

In  this  sense  the  ascetic  attitude  to  the  nutritive  and  the 
sexual  functions  belongs  to  the  psychological  and  not  to  the 
physiological  side  of  the  struggle  between  the  flesh  and  the 
spirit.  The  struggle  in  this  case  is  not  against  the  functions  of 
the  organism  as  such,  but  against  the  states  of  the  soul — gluttony, 
drunkenness,  sensuality.  These  sinful  propensities,  which  may 
become  passions  and  vices,  are  on  a level  with  evil  emotions  such 
as  anger,  envy,  cupidity,  etc.  The  latter  passions,  which  are  evil 
and  not  merely  shameful , fall  within  the  province  of  altruistic 
and  not  of  ascetic  morality,  for  they  involve  a certain  relation 
to  one’s  neighbours.  But  there  are  some  general  rules  for  the 
inner,  morally-psychological  struggle  with  sinful  inclinations  as 
such,  whether  they  refer  to  other  men  or  to  our  own  material 
nature. 

The  inner  process  in  and  through  which  an  evil  desire  takes 


56  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

possession  of  the  self  has  three  main  stages.  To  begin  with, 
there  arises  in  the  mind  the  idea  of  some  object  or  some  action 
which  corresponds  to  one  of  the  bad  propensities  of  our  nature. 
This  idea  causes  the  spirit  to  reflect  upon  it.  At  that  first  stage 
a simple  act  of  will  rejecting  such  reflection  is  sufficient.  The 
spirit  must  simply  show  its  firmness  or  impermeability  to  foreign 
elements.1  If  this  is  not  done,  the  reflection  develops  into  an 
imaginary  picture  of  this  or  that  nature  — sensual,  vindictive, 
vain,  and  so  on.2  This  picture  forces  the  mind  to  attend  to  it, 
and  cannot  be  got  rid  of  by  a mere  negative  act  of  will  ; it  is 
necessary  to  draw  the  mind  away  by  thinking  in  the  opposite 
direction  (for  instance,  by  thinking  about  death).  But  if  at  this 
second  stage  the  mind,  instead  of  being  drawn  away  from  the 
picture  of  sin,  dwells  upon  it  and  identifies  itself  with  it, 
then  the  third  moment  inevitably  comes  when  not  only  the 
mind,  secretly  impelled  by  the  evil  desire,  but  the  whole  spirit 
gives  itself  up  to  the  sinful  thought  and  enjoys  it.  Neither  a 
rejecting  act  of  will  nor  a distracting  reflection  of  the  mind 
can  then  save  the  spirit  from  bondage — practical  moral  work 
is  necessary  to  re-establish  the  inner  equilibrium  in  the  whole 
man.  Otherwise  the  victory  of  the  sinful  emotion  over  the 
spirit  will  become  a passion  and  a vice.  Man  will  lose  his 
rational  freedom,  and  moral  rules  will  lose  their  power  over 
him. 

1 Ecclesiastical  writers  describe  this  rule  as  “ dashing  the  babes  of  Babylon  against 
the  stones,”  following  the  allegorical  line  in  the  Psalms  : “ O daughter  of  Babylon  who 
art  to  be  destroyed  ; happy  shall  he  be  that  taketh  and  dashes  thy  little  ones  against 
the  stones”  (Babylon  = the  kingdom  of  sin;  a babe  of  Babylon  = a sin  conceived  in 
thought  and  as  yet  undeveloped  ; stones  the  firmness  of  faith). 

2 When  one  is  young  and  has  a lively  imagination  and  little  spiritual  experience, 
the  evil  thought  develops  very  rapidly,  and,  reaching  absurd  proportions,  calls  forth  a 
strong  moral  reaction.  Thus  you  think  of  a person  you  dislike,  and  experience  a 
slight  emotion  of  injury,  indignation,  and  anger.  If  you  do  not  immediately  dash  this 
‘babe  of  Babylon’  against  the  stones,  your  imagination,  obedient  to  the  evil  passion,  will 
immediately  draw  a vivid  picture  before  you.  You  meet  your  enemy  and  put  him  into 
an  awkward  position.  All  his  worthlessness  is  exposed.  You  experience  the  ■velleitas  of 
magnanimity,  but  the  passion  is  roused  and  overwhelms  you.  At  first  you  keep  within 
the  limits  of  good  breeding.  You  make  subtly  stinging  remarks  which,  however,  soon 
become  more  stinging  than  subtle  ; then  you  ‘ insult  him  verbally,’  and  then  you  ‘assault 
him.’  Your  devilishly  strong  fist  deals  victorious  blows.  The  scoundrel  is  felled  to  the 
ground,  the  scoundrel  is  killed,  and  you  dance  on  his  corpse  like  a cannibal.  One  can 
go  no  further — nothing  is  left  but  to  cross  oneself  and  renounce  it  all  in  disgust. 


THE  ASCETIC  PRINCIPLE  IN  MORALITY  57 

Ethics  is  the  hygiene  and  not  the  therapeutics  of  the 
spiritual  life. 


VIII 

The  supremacy  of  the  spirit  over  the  flesh  is  necessary  in 
order  to  preserve  the  moral  dignity  of  man.  The  principle  of 
true  asceticism  is  the  principle  of  spiritual  self-preservation. 
But  the  inner  self-preservation  of  a separate  man,  of  a being  who, 
though  spiritual  (i.e.  possessing  reason  and  will),  is  nevertheless 
limited  or  relative  in  his  separateness,  cannot  be  the  absolute  good  or 
the  supreme  and  final  end  of  life.  The  slavery  of  man  to  fleshly 
desires  in  the  wide  sense  of  the  term,  i.e.  to  all  that  is  senseless 
and  contrary  to  reason,  transforms  him  into  the  worst  species 
of  animal,  and  is,  no  doubt,  evil.  In  this  sense  no  one  can 
honestly  argue  against  asceticism,  that  is,  against  self-restraint  as 
a principle.  Every  one  agrees  that  incapacity  to  resist  animal 
instincts  is  a weakness  of  the  spirit,  shameful  for  a human  being, 
and  therefore  bad.  The  capacity  for  such  resistance  or  self- 
restraint  is  then  a good,  and  must  be  accepted  as  a norm  from 
which  definite  rules  of  conduct  may  be  deduced.  On  this  point, 
as  on  others,  moral  philosophy  merely  explains  and  elaborates  the 
testimony  of  ordinary  human  consciousness.  Apart  from  any 
principles,  gluttony,  drunkenness,  lewdness  immediately  call  forth 
disgust  and  contempt,  and  abstinence  from  these  vices  meets  with 
instinctive  respect,  i.e.  is  acknowledged  as  a good.  This  good, 
however,  taken  by  itself,  is  not  absolute.  The  power  of  the  spirit 
over  the  flesh,  or  the  strength  of  will  acquired  by  rightful  abstin- 
ence, may  be  used  for  immoral  purposes.  A strong  will  may  be  evil. 
A man  may  suppress  his  lower  nature  in  order  to  boast  or  to  pride 
himself  on  his  superior  power  ; such  a victory  of  the  spirit  is  not 
a good.  It  is  still  worse  if  the  self-control  of  the  spirit  and  the 
concentration  of  the  will  are  used  to  the  detriment  of  other  people, 
even  apart  from  the  purposes  of  low  gain.  Asceticism  has  been, 
and  is,  successfully  practised  by  men  given  to  spiritual  pride, 
hypocrisy,  and  vanity,  and  even  by  vindictive,  cruel,  and  selfish 
men.  According  to  the  general  verdict,  such  an  ascetic  is  in  the 
moral  sense  far  inferior  to  a simple-hearted  drunkard  or  glutton  or 
to  a kind  profligate.  Asceticism  in  itself  is  not  necessarily  a good, 


58  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

and  cannot  therefore  be  the  supreme  or  the  absolute  principle  of 
morality.  The  true  (the  moral)  ascetic  acquires  control  over  the 
flesh,  not  simply  for  the  sake  of  increasing  the  powers  of  the  spirit, 
but  for  furthering  the  realisation  of  the  Good.  Asceticism  which 
liberates  the  spirit  from  shameful  (carnal)  passions  only  to  attach 
it  more  closely  to  evil  (spiritual)  passions  is  obviously  a false  or 
immoral  asceticism.1  Its  true  prototype,  according  to  the  Christian 
idea,  is  the  devil,  who  does  not  eat  or  drink  and  remains  in  celibacy. 
If,  then,  from  the  moral  point  of  view  we  cannot  approve  of  a 
wicked  or  a pitiless  ascetic,  it  follows  that  the  principle  of  asceticism 
has  only  a relative  moral  significance,  namely,  that  it  is  conditioned 
by  its  connection  with  the  principle  of  altruism,  the  root  of  which 
is  pity.  I now  pass  to  consider  this  second  moral  principle. 

1 If  the  suppression  of  the  flesh  is  taken  not  as  a means  for  good  or  evil  but  as  an 
end  in  itself,  we  get  a peculiar  kind  of  false  asceticism  which  identifies  flesh  with  the 
physical  body,  and  considers  every  bodily  torment  a virtue.  Although  this  false  asceticism 
of  self-laceration  has  no  evil  purpose  to  begin  with,  in  its  further  development  it  easily 
becomes  an  evil  : it  either  proves  to  be  a slow  suicide  or  becomes  a peculiar  kind  of 
sensuality.  It  would  be  unwise,  however,  thus  to  condemn  all  cases  of  self-laceration. 
Natures  that  have  a particularly  strong  material  life  may  require  heroic  means  for  its 
suppression.  One  must  not  therefore  indiscriminately  condemn  Stylitism,  fetters,  and  other 
similar  means  of  mortifying  the  flesh  that  were  in  use  in  the  heroic  times  of  asceticism. 


CHAPTER  III 


PITY  AND  ALTRUISM 

I 

It  has  for  a long  time  been  thought — and  many  are  beginning  to 
think  so  again — that  the  highest  virtue  or  holiness  is  to  be  found 
in  asceticism  and  ‘ mortification  of  the  flesh,’  in  suppressing  natural 
inclinations  and  affections,  in  abstinence  and  freedom  from 
passions.  We  have  seen  that  this  ideal  undoubtedly  contains  some 
truth,  for  it  is  clear  that  the  higher  or  the  spiritual  side  of 
man  must  dominate  the  lower  or  the  material.  The  efforts  of 
will  in  this  direction  are  acts  of  spiritual  self-preservation  and  are 
the  first  condition  of  all  morality.  The  first  condition , however, 
cannot  be  taken  to  be  the  ultimate  end . Man  must  strengthen  his 
spirit  and  subordinate  his  flesh,  not  because  this  is  the  purpose  of 
his  life,  but  because  it  is  only  when  he  is  free  from  the  bondage  to 
blind  and  evil  material  desires  that  he  can  serve  truth  and  goodness 
in  the  right  way  and  attain  real  perfection. 

The  rules  of  abstinence  strengthen  the  spiritual  power  of  the 
man  who  practises  them.  But  in  order  that  the  strong  spirit 
may  have  moral  worth — i.e.  that  it  may  be  good  and  not  evil — it 
must  unite  the  power  over  its  own  flesh  with  a rightful  and 
charitable  attitude  to  other  beings.  History  has  shown  that,  apart 
from  this  condition,  the  supremacy  of  the  ascetic  principle,  even 
when  combined  with  a true  religion,  leads  to  terrible  conse- 
quences. The  ministers  of  the  Mediaeval  Church,  who  used  to 
torture  and  burn  heretics,  Jews,  sorcerers  and  witches,  were  for  the 
most  part  men  irreproachable  from  the  ascetic  point  of  view.  But 
the  one-sided  force  of  the  spirit  and  the  absence  of  pity  made 
them  devils  incarnate.  The  bitter  fruits  of  mediaeval  asceticism 


59 


60  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

sufficiently  justify  the  reaction  against  it,  which,  in  the  sphere  of 
moral  philosophy,  has  led  to  the  supremacy  of  the  altruistic  principle 
in  morality. 

This  principle  is  deeply  rooted  in  our  being  in  the  form  of 
the  feeling  of  pity  which  man  has  in  common  with  other  living 
creatures.  If  the  feeling  of  shame  differentiates  man  from  the 
rest  of  nature  and  distinguishes  him  from  other  animals,  the  feel- 
ing of  pity,  on  the  contrary,  unites  him  with  the  whole  world  of 
the  living.  It  does  so  in  a double  sense  : in  the  first  place 

because  man  shares  it  with  all  other  living  creatures,  and  secondly 
because  all  living  creatures  can  and  must  be  the  objects  of  that 
feeling  to  man. 

II 

That  the  natural  basis  of  our  moral  relation  to  others  is  the 
feeling  of  pity  or  compassion,  and  not  the  feeling  of  unity  or 
solidarity  in  general,  is  a truth  which  is  independent  of  any 
system  of  metaphysics 1 and  in  no  way  involves  a pessimistic  view 
of  the  world  and  of  life.  As  is  well  known,  Schopenhauer  main- 
tains that  the  ultimate  nature  of  the  universe  is  Will,  and  will  is 
essentially  a state  of  dissatisfaction  (for  satisfaction  implies  that 
there  is  nothing  to  wish  for).  Hence  dissatisfaction  or  suffering 
is  the  fundamental  and  positive  determination  of  all  existence  in 
its  inward  aspect,  and  the  inner  moral  bond  between  beings  is 
compassion.  But  altogether  apart  from  this  doubtful  theory 
—and  the  equally  doubtful  calculations  of  Hartmann,  who  tries 
to  prove  that  the  amount  of  pain  in  humanity  is  incomparably 
greater  than  the  amount  of  pleasure — we  find  that  from  the  nature 
of  the  case  the  only  basis  of  the  moral  relation  to  other  beings  is, 
as  a matter  of  principle , to  be  found  in  pity  or  compassion,  and 
certainly  not  in  co-rejoicing  or  co-pleasure. 

Human  delight,  pleasure,  and  joy  may  of  course  be  innocent 
and  even  positively  good — and  in  that  case  sharing  in  them  has 
a positive  moral  character.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  human 
pleasures  may  be,  and  often  are,  immoral.  A wicked  and  vindictive 
man  finds  pleasure  in  insulting  and  tormenting  those  near  him, 
rejoices  in  their  humiliation,  delights  in  the  harm  he  has  done. 

1 Such  as  the  doctrine  of  Buddhism  or  Schopenhauer’s  ‘ Philosophy  of  the  Will.’ 


PITY  AND  ALTRUISM 


61 


A sensual  man  finds  the  chief  joy  of  life  in  profligacy  ; a cruel  man 
in  killing  animals  or  even  human  beings  ; a drunkard  is  happy 
when  he  is  stupefying  himself  with  drink,  etc.  In  all  these  cases  the 
feeling  of  pleasure  cannot  be  separated  from  the  bad  actions  which 
produce  it,  and  sometimes,  indeed,  the  pleasure  gives  an  immoral 
character  to  actions  which  would  in  themselves  be  indifferent. 
Thus  when  a soldier  in  war  kills  an  enemy  at  the  word  of  command 
from  no  other  motive  than  ‘his  duty  as  a soldier,’  no  one  would 
accuse  him  of  immoral  cruelty,  whatever  our  attitude  to  war  might 
be.  But  it  is  a different  thing  if  he  finds  pleasure  in  killing  and 
bayonets  a man  with  relish.  In  more  simple  cases  the  thing  is 
clearer  still  ; thus  it  is  obvious  that  the  immorality  of  drunkenness 
consists  not  in  the  external  action  of  swallowing  certain  drinks  but 
in  the  inner  pleasure  which  a man  finds  in  artificially  stupefying 
himself. 

But  if  a certain  pleasure  is  in  itself  immoral,  the  participation 
in  it  by  another  person  (co-rejoicing,  co-pleasure)  also  receives  an 
immoral  character.  The  fact  is  that  positive  participation  in  a 
pleasure  implies  the  approval  of  that  pleasure.  Thus  in  sharing 
the  drunkard’s  delight  in  his  favourite  pleasure  I approve  of 
drunkenness  ; in  sharing  somebody’s  joy  at  successful  revenge 
I approve  of  vindictiveness.  And  since  these  pleasures  are  bad 
pleasures,  those  who  sympathise  with  them  approve  of  what  is 
evil,  and  consequently  are  themselves  guilty  of  immorality.  Just 
as  participation  in  a crime  is  itself  regarded  as  a crime,  so 
sympathy  with  vicious  pleasure  or  delight  must  itself  be  pro- 
nounced vicious.  And  indeed  sympathy  with  an  evil  pleasure 
not  only  involves  an  approval  of  it,  but  also  presupposes  the  same 
bad  propensity  in  the  sympathiser.  Only  a drunkard  delights  in 
another  person’s  drunkenness,  only  a vindictive  man  rejoices  in 
another’s  revenge.  Participation  in  the  pleasures  or  joys  of  others 
may  then  be  good  or  bad  according  to  their  object  ; and  if  it  may 
be  immoral,  it  cannot  as  such  be  the  basis  of  the  moral  relation. 

The  same  thing  cannot  be  said  about  suffering  and  compas- 
sion. According  to  the  very  idea  of  it,  suffering  is  a state  in 
which  the  will  of  the  one  who  suffers  has  no  direct  and  positive 
part.  When  we  speak  of  ‘ voluntary  suffering,’  we  mean,  not 
that  suffering  is  desired  as  such,  but  that  the  object  of  will  is 
that  which  makes  suffering  necessary,  in  other  words,  that  the 


62  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

object  of  will  is  the  good  which  is  attained  by  suffering.  A 
martyr  undergoes  torments,  not  for  their  own  sake,  but  because 
in  the  circumstances  they  are  a necessary  consequence  of  his 
faith  and  a means  to  higher  glory  and  to  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.  On  the  other  hand,  suffering  may  be  deserved,  i.e. 
its  cause  may  lie  in  bad  actions  ; but  the  suffering  as  such  is 
distinct  from  its  cause  and  contains  no  moral  guilt  ; on  the 
contrary,  it  is  regarded  as  its  expiation  and  redemption.  Though 
drunkenness  is  a sin,  no  moralist,  however  stern,  would  pronounce 
the  headache  that  results  from  drinking  to  be  a sin  also.  For 
this  reason  participation  in  the  suffering  of  others  (even  when 
they  deserve  it) — i.e.  pity  or  compassion — can  never  be  immoral. 
In  commiserating  with  one  who  suffers  I do  not  in  the  least 
approve  of  the  evil  cause  of  his  suffering.1  Pity  for  the  criminal’s 
suffering  does  not  mean  approval  or  justification  of  his  crime. 
On  the  contrary,  the  greater  my  pity  for  the  sad  consequences  of 
a man’s  sin,  the  greater  my  condemnation  of  the  sin. 

Participation  in  the  pleasures  of  others  may  always  have  an 
element  of  self-interest.  Even  in  the  case  of  an  old  man  sharing 
the  joy  of  a child  doubt  may  be  felt  with  regard  to  the  altruistic 
nature  of  his  sentiment ; for  in  any  case  it  is  pleasant  for  the  old 
man  to  refresh  the  memory  of  his  own  happy  childhood.  On 
the  contrary,  all  genuine  feeling  of  regret  at  the  suffering  of 
others,  whether  moral  or  physical,  is  painful  for  the  person  who 
experiences  that  feeling,  and  is  therefore  opposed  to  his  egoism. 
This  is  clear  from  the  fact  that  sincere  grief  about  others  disturbs 
our  personal  joy,  damps  our  mirth,  that  is,  proves  to  be  in- 
compatible with  the  state  of  selfish  satisfaction.  Genuine  com- 
passion or  pity  can  have  no  selfish  motives  and  is  purely 
altruistic , while  the  feeling  of  co-rejoicing  or  co-pleasure  is,  from 
the  moral  point  of  view,  a mixed  and  indefinite  feeling. 

1 An  apparent  instance  to  the  contrary  is  the  case  of  a person  sympathising  with 
another  who  is  grieved  at  the  failure  of  his  crime.  But,  in  truth,  even  in  this  case  in  so 
far  as  sympathy  arises  solely  out  of  pity  it  does  not  in  the  least  refer  to  the  bad  cause 
of  the  grief,  in  no  way  presupposes  an  approval  of  it,  and  therefore  is  good  and  innocent. 
But  if,  in  being  sorry  for  the  murderer  who  missed  his  aim,  I also  deplore  his  failure, 
the  immorality  will  lie  not  in  my  pity  for  the  criminal,  but  in  my  lack  of  pity  for 
his  victim.  Speaking  generally,  when  several  persons  prove  to  be  at  one  in  some 
wrong,  the  moral  condemnation  refers  not  to  the  fact  of  their  solidarity,  but  only  to 
the  bad  object  of  it. 


PITY  AND  ALTRUISM 


63 


III 

There  is  another  reason  why  participation  in  the  joys  or 
pleasures  of  others  cannot  in  itself  have  the  same  fundamental 
importance  for  ethics  as  the  feeling  of  pity  or  compassion. 
The  demand  of  reason  is  that  morality  should  only  be  based 
upon  such  feelings  as  always  contain  an  impulse  for  definite 
action  and,  being  generalised,  give  rise  to  a definite  moral 
principle  or  principles.  But  pleasure  or  joy  is  the  end  of  action  ; 
in  it  the  purpose  of  the  activity  is  reached,  and  participation  in 
the  pleasure  of  others  as  well  as  the  experience  of  one’s  own 
pleasure  contains  no  impulse  and  no  ground  for  further  action. 
Pity,  on  the  contrary,  directly  urges  us  to  act  in  order  to  help  a 
fellow-being  and  to  save  him  from  suffering.  The  action  may 
be  purely  inward — thus  pity  for  my  enemy  may  prevent  me 
from  insulting  or  injuring  him — but  in  any  case  it  is  an  action, 
and  not  a passive  state  like  joy  or  pleasure.  Of  course,  I may  find 
inward  satisfaction  in  the  fact  that  I did  not  hurt  my  neighbour, 
but  this  can  only  happen  after  the  act  of  will  has  taken  place. 
Similarly  in  the  case  of  rendering  help  to  a fellow-being  who  is 
in  pain  or  in  need,  the  pleasure  or  joy  resulting  therefrom,  both 
for  him  and  for  the  person  who  helps  him,  is  only  the  final 
consequence  and  the  culmination  of  the  altruistic  act,  and  not 
its  source  or  its  ground.  If  I see  or  hear  that  some  one  is 
suffering,  one  of  two  things  happens.  Either  that  other  person’s 
suffering  calls  forth  in  me  also  a certain  degree  of  pain  and  I 
experience  pity — in  which  case  that  feeling  is  a direct  and 
sufficient  reason  for  me  to  render  active  help.  Or,  if  another’s 
suffering  does  not  rouse  pity  in  me,  or  does  not  rouse  it 
sufficiently  to  incite  me  to  act,  the  idea  of  the  pleasure  which 
would  ensue  from  my  action  would  obviously  be  still  less  likely 
to  do  so.  It  is  clear  that  an  abstract  and  conditioned  thought 
of  a future  mental  state  cannot  possibly  have  more  effect  than 
the  immediate  contemplation  or  concrete  representation  of  actual 
physical  and  mental  states  which  call  for  direct  action.  There- 
fore the  true  ground  or  the  producing  cause  ( causa  efficiens ) of 
every  altruistic  action  is  the  perception  or  the  idea  of  another 
person’s  suffering  as  it  actually  exists  at  the  moment,  and  not 


64  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

the  thought  of  the  pleasure  which  may  arise  in  the  future  as 
the  result  of  the  benevolent  act.  Of  course,  if  a person  decides 
out  of  pity  to  help  a fellow- being  in  distress,  he  may,  if  he 
have  time  to  do  so,  imagine — especially  on  the  ground  of  the 
remembered  experiences  in  the  past — the  joy  he  will  thereby  give 
to  himself  and  to  that  other  person.  But  to  take  this  con- 
comitant and  accidental  thought  for  the  true  motive  of  action  is 
contrary  both  to  logic  and  to  psychological  experience. 

On  the  one  hand,  then,  participation  in  the  actual  joys  and 
pleasures  of  others  cannot  from  the  very  nature  of  the  case  contain 
either  a stimulus  for  action  or  a rule  of  conduct,  for  in  these 
states  satisfaction  is  already  attained.  On  the  other  hand,  a con- 
ditional representation  of  future  pleasures,  which  are  supposed  to 
follow  upon  the  removal  of  the  suffering,  can  only  be  a secondary 
and  an  indirect  addition  to  the  actual  feeling  of  compassion  or 
pity  which  moves  us  to  do  active  good.  Consequently  it  is  this 
feeling  alone  which  must  be  pronounced  to  be  the  true  ground 
of  altruistic  conduct. 

Those  who  pity  the  sufferings  of  others  will  certainly  partici- 
pate in  their  joys  and  pleasures  when  the  latter  are  harmless  and 
innocent.  But  this  natural  consequence  of  the  moral  relation  to 
others  cannot  be  taken  as  the  basis  of  morality.  That  alone  is 
truly  good  which  is  good  in  itself,  and  therefore  always  preserves 
its  good  character,  never  becoming  evil.  Therefore  the  morality 
(or  the  good)  in  any  given  sphere  of  relations  can  only  be  based 
upon  such  data  from  which  a general  and  absolute  rule  of 
conduct  may  be  deduced.  Such  precisely  is  the  nature  of  pity 
towards  our  fellow-beings.  To  pity  all  that  suffers  is  always  and 
unconditionally  good ; it  is  a rule  that  requires  no  reservations. 
But  participation  in  the  joys  and  pleasures  of  others  may  be 
approved  conditionally  only,  and  even  when  it  is  laudable  it 
contains,  as  we  have  seen,  no  rule  of  conduct. 

IV 

The  unquestionable  and  familiar  fact  that  a distinct  individual 
being  may,  as  it  were,  transcend  in  feeling  the  limits  of  his 
individuality,  and  respond  painfully  to  the  suffering  of  others, 
experiencing  it  as  if  it  were  his  own  pain,  may  appear  to  some 


PITY  AND  ALTRUISM 


65 


minds  mysterious  and  enigmatic.  It  was  regarded  as  such  by  the 
philosopher  who  found  in  compassion  the  sole  foundation  of 
morality. 

“How  is  it  possible,”  he  asks,  “that  suffering  which  is  not 
mine  should  become  an  immediate  motive  of  my  action  in  the 
same  way  as  my  own  suffering  does?”  “This  presupposes,” 
he  goes  on,  “that  I have  to  a certain  extent  identified  myself 
with  another,  and  that  the  barrier  between  the  self  and  the  not 
self  has  been  for  the  moment  removed.  It  is  then  only  that 
the  position  of  another,  his  want,  his  need,  his  suffering, 
immediately  (?)  becomes  mine.  I no  longer  see  him  then  as  he  is 
given  me  in  empirical  perception — as  something  foreign  and 
indifferent  (?)  to  me,  as  something  absolutely  (?)  separate  from 
me.  On  the  contrary,  in  compassion  it  is  I who  suffer  in  him, 
although  his  skin  does  not  cover  my  nerves.  Only  through 
such  identification  can  his  suffering,  his  need,  become  a motive 
for  me  in  a way  in  which  ordinarily  only  my  own  suffering  can. 
This  is  a highly  mysterious  phenomenon — it  is  a real  mystery 
of  Ethics,  for  it  is  something  for  which  reason  cannot  directly 
account  (? !)  and  the  grounds  of  which  cannot  be  discovered 
empirically.  And  yet  it  is  of  everyday  occurrence.  Each  has 
experienced  it  himself  and  seen  it  in  other  people.  It  happens 
every  day  before  our  eyes  on  a small  scale  in  individual  cases 
every  time  that,  moved  by  an  immediate  impulse,  without 
any  further  reflection,  a man  helps  another  and  defends  him, 
sometimes  risking  his  own  life  for  the  sake  of  a person  whom 
he  sees  for  the  first  time,  thinking  of  nothing  but  the  obvious 
distress  and  need  of  that  person.  It  happens  on  a large  scale  when 
a whole  nation  sacrifices  its  blood  and  its  property  for  the  sake  of 
defending  or  setting  free  another,  oppressed,  nation.  For  such 
actions  to  deserve  unconditional  moral  approval,  it  is  necessary 
that  there  should  be  present  that  mysterious  act  of  compassion 
or  of  inner  identification  of  oneself  with  another,  without  any 
ulterior  motives.”  1 

This  discussion  of  the  mysterious  character  of  compassion  is 
distinguished  by  literary  eloquence  more  than  by  philosophic 
truth.  The  mystery  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  fact  itself,  but 

1 Schopenhauer,  Die  beiden  Grundprobleme  der  Ethik , 2nd  ed.,  Leipzig,  i860, 
p.  230. 

F 


66  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


is  due  to  a false  description,  which  lays  exaggerated  emphasis 
on  the  extreme  terms  of  the  relation,  and  leaves  the  connecting 
links  between  them  entirely  out  of  account.  In  his  sphere 
Schopenhauer  abused  the  rhetorical  method  of  contrast  or 
antithesis  quite  as  much  as  Victor  Hugo  did  in  his.  The 
matter  is  described  in  such  a way  as  if  a given  being,  absolutely 
separate  from  another,  all  of  a sudden  immediately  identified 
itself  with  that  other  in  the  feeling  of  compassion.  This 
would,  indeed,  be  highly  mysterious.  But,  in  truth,  neither 
the  absolute  separateness  nor  the  immediate  identification  of 
which  Schopenhauer  speaks  exists  at  all.  To  understand  any 
relation  one  must  take  first  the  earliest  and  most  elementary 
instance  of  it.  Take  the  maternal  instinct  of  animals.  When  a 
dog  defends  her  puppies  or  suffers  at  losing  them,  where  does 
all  the  mystery  of  which  Schopenhauer  speaks  come  in  ? Are 
these  puppies  something  ‘foreign  and  indifferent’  to  their  mother, 
and  ‘absolutely  separate’  from  her?  Between  her  and  them 
there  was  from  the  first  a real  physical  and  organic  connection, 
clear  and  obvious  to  the  simplest  observation  and  independent 
of  all  metaphysics.  These  creatures  were  for  a time  actually  a 
part  of  her  own  body,  her  nerves  and  theirs  had  been  covered  by 
one  and  the  same  skin,  and  the  very  beginning  of  their  existence 
involved  a change  in  her  organism,  and  was  painfully  reflected 
in  her  sensations.1  At  birth  this  real  organic  connection  is 
weakened,  becomes  looser,  so  to  speak,  but  it  is  not  completely 
severed  or  replaced  by  ‘absolute  separateness.’  Therefore  the 
participation  of  a mother  in  the  sufferings  of  her  children  is  as 
much  a natural  fact  as  the  pain  we  feel  when  we  cut  a finger 
or  dislocate  a leg.  In  a sense,  of  course,  this,  too,  is  mysterious — 
but  not  in  the  sense  in  which  the  philosopher  of  compassion 
takes  it  to  be.  Now  all  the  other  and  more  complex  manifesta- 
tions of  the  feeling  of  pity  have  a similar  ground.  All  that 
exists,  and,  in  particular,  all  living  beings  are  connected  by  the 
fact  of  their  compresence  in  one  and  the  same  world,  and  by  the 
unity  of  origin  ; all  spring  from  one  common  mother — nature, 

1 Certain  animals,  like  human  mothers,  have  been  observed  to  suffer  from  nausea 
a conceptu.  The  maternal  feeling  established  on  the  physical  basis  may  afterwards,  like 
all  feelings,  be  diverted  from  its  natural  object  and  transferred  to  the  young  of  another 
animal  that  have  been  substituted  for  her  own. 


PITY  AND  ALTRUISM 


67 

of  which  they  are  a part ; nowhere  do  we  find  the  c absolute 
separateness  ’ of  which  Schopenhauer  speaks.  The  natural  organic 
connection  of  all  beings  as  parts  of  one  whole  is  given  in 
experience,  and  is  not  merely  a speculative  idea.  Hence  the 
psychological  expression  of  that  connection — the  inner  partici- 
pation of  one  being  in  the  suffering  of  others,  compassion  or 
pity — can  be  understood  even  from  the  empirical  point  of  view 
as  the  expression  of  the  natural  and  obvious  solidarity  of  all 
that  exists.  This  participation  of  beings  in  one  another  is  in 
keeping  with  the  general  plan  of  the  universe,  is  in  harmony 
with  reason  or  perfectly  rational.  What  is  senseless  or  irrational 
is  the  mutual  estrangement  of  beings,  their  subjective  separate- 
ness, contradictory  of  their  objective  unity.  It  is  this  inner 
egoism  and  not  the  mutual  sympathy  between  the  different  parts 
of  one  nature  that  really  is  mysterious  and  enigmatic.  Reason 
can  give  no  direct  account  of  it,  and  its  grounds  are  not  to 
be  found  empirically. 

Absolute  separateness  is  merely  affirmed  but  is  not  established 
by  egoism  ; it  neither  does  nor  can  exist  as  a fact.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  mutual  connection  between  beings  which  finds  its 
psychological  expression  in  sympathy  or  pity  is  certainly  not  of 
the  nature  of  immediate  identification  as  Schopenhauer  takes  it 
to  be.  When  I am  sorry  for  my  friend  who  has  a headache  the 
feeling  of  sympathy  does  not  as  a rule  become  a headache.  So  far 
from  my  being  identified  with  him  even  our  states  remain  distinct, 
and  I clearly  distinguish  my  head,  which  does  not  ache,  from  his, 
which  does.  Also,  so  far  as  I am  aware,  it  has  never  happened  that  a 
compassionate  man,  who  jumps  into  the  water  to  save  another  from 
drowning,  should  take  that  other  person  for  himself  or  himself  for 
that  other.  Even  a hen — a creature  more  noted  for  her  maternal 
instinct  than  for  intelligence — clearly  understands  the  distinction 
between  herself  and  her  chicks,  and,  therefore,  behaves  in  relation 
to  them  in  a certain  way,  which  would  be  impossible  if  in  her 
maternal  compassion  c the  barrier  between  the  self  and  the  not  self 
were  removed.’  If  this  were  the  case,  the  hen  might  confuse  herself 
with  her  chickens,  and,  when  hungry,  might  ascribe  that  sensation 
to  them  and  start  feeding  them,  although  in  reality  they  were 
satisfied  and  she  almost  starving  ; or,  another  time,  she  might  feed 
herself  at  their  expense.  In  truth,  in  all  these  real  cases  of  pity, 


68  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

the  barriers  between  the  being  who  pities  and  those  whom  it  pities 
are  not  removed  at  all ; they  simply  prove  not  to  be  so  absolute 
and  impermeable  as  the  abstract  reflection  of  scholastic  philosophers 
would  make  them. 

The  removal  of  barriers  between  the  self  and  the  not  self  or 
immediate  identification  is  merely  a figure  of  speech  and  not  an 
expression  of  real  fact.  Like  the  vibration  of  chords  that  sound 
in  unison,  so  the  bond  of  compassion  between  living  beings  is  not 
simply  identity  but  harmony  of  the  similar.  From  this  point  of 
view,  too,  the  fundamental  moral  fact  of  pity  or  compassion  com- 
pletely corresponds  to  the  real  nature  of  things  or  to  the  meaning 
of  the  universe.  For  the  indissoluble  oneness  of  the  world  is  not 
a mere  empty  unity,  but  embraces  the  whole  range  of  determinate 
variations. 

V 

As  befits  an  ultimate  moral  principle,  the  feeling  of  pity  has  no 
external  limits  for  its  application.  Starting  with  the  narrow  sphere 
of  maternal  love,  strongly  developed  even  in  the  higher  animals, 
it  may,  in  the  case  of  man,  as  it  gradually  becomes  wider,  pass 
from  the  family  to  the  clan  and  the  tribe,  to  the  civic  com- 
munity, the  entire  nation,  to  all  humanity,  and  finally  embrace  all 
that  lives.  In  individual  cases,  when  confronted  with  actual  pain 
or  need,  we  may  actively  pity  not  only  every  man — though  belong- 
ing to  a different  race  or  religion — but  even  every  animal  ; this  is 
beyond  dispute  and  is,  indeed,  quite  usual.  Less  usual  is  such  a 
breadth  of  compassion  which,  without  any  obvious  reason,  at  once 
embraces  in  a keen  feeling  of  pity  all  the  multitude  of  living  beings 
in  the  universe.  It  is  difficult  to  suspect  of  artificial  rhetoric  or 
exaggerated  pathos  the  following  description  of  universal  pity  as  an 
actual  jnental  state — very  unlike  the  state  of  the  so-called  c world- 
woe  ’ ( Weltschmerz. ).  “ And  I was  asked  what  is  a pitying  heart  ? 

And  I answered  : the  glow  in  a man’s  heart  for  all  creation,  for 
men,  for  birds,  for  animals,  for  demons , and  for  creatures  of  all 
kinds.  When  he  thinks  of  them  or  looks  upon  them,  his  eyes 
gush  with  tears.  Great  and  poignant  pity  possesses  him  and  his 
heart  is  wrung  with  suffering,  and  he  cannot  bear  either  to  hear 
or  to  see  any  harm  or  grief  endured  by  any  creature.  And  hence 
every  hour  he  prays  with  tears  even  for  the  dumb  beasts,  and  for 


PITY  AND  ALTRUISM 


69 

the  enemies  of  truth  and  those  who  do  him  wrong,  that  God  may- 
preserve  them  and  have  mercy  on  them  ; and  for  all  of  the 
crawling  kind  he  prays  with  great  pity  which  rises  up  in  his  heart 
beyond  measure  so  that  in  that  he  is  made  like  to  God.”  1 

In  this  description  of  the  fundamental  altruistic  motive  in  its 
highest  form  we  find  neither  ‘immediate  identification’  nor 
‘ removing  the  barriers  between  the  self  and  the  not  self  ’ It 
differs  from  Schopenhauer’s  account  like  living  truth  from  literary 
eloquence.  These  words  of  the  Christian  writer  also  prove  that 
there  is  no  need,  as  Schopenhauer  mistakenly  thought,  to  turn  to 
Indian  dramas  or  to  Buddhism  in  order  to  learn  the  prayer  ‘May 
all  that  lives  be  free  from  suffering.’ 

VI 

The  universal  consciousness  of  humanity  decidedly  pronounces 
pity  to  be  a good  thing.  A person  who  manifests  this  feeling  is  called 
good ; the  more  deeply  he  experiences  and  the  more  he  acts  upon 
it,  the  more  good  he  is  considered  to  be.  A pitiless  man  more  than 
any  other  is  called  wicked.  It  does  not  follow,  however,  that  the 
whole  of  morality  or  the  essence  of  all  good  can  be  reduced,  as  it 
often  is,  to  compassion  or  ‘ sympathetic  feeling.’ 

“ Boundless  compassion  to  all  living  beings,”  observes 
Schopenhauer,  “is  the  surest  guarantee  of  moral  conduct  and 
requires  no  casuistry.  The  man  who  is  full  of  that  feeling  will  be 
certain  not  to  injure  any  one,  not  to  cause  suffering  to  any  one  ; all 
his  actions  will  be  sure  to  bear  the  stamp  of  truth  and  mercy.  Let 
any  one  say, ‘This  man  is  virtuous,  but  he  knows  no  compassion,’  or 
‘ He  is  an  unrighteous  and  wicked  man,  but  he  is  very  compassionate,’ 
and  the  contradiction  will  be  at  once  apparent.”'2  These  words 
are  only  true  with  considerable  reservations.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  pity  or  compassion  is  a real  basis  of  morality,  but  Schopenhauer’s 
obvious  mistake  is  in  regarding  that  feeling  as  the  only  foundation 
of  all  morality.3 

1 The  Sayings  of  the  Holy  Father  Isaac  the  Syrian , Hermit  and  Ascetic , Bishop  of  the 
City  of  Ninety,  p.  277. 

2 Die  beiden  Grundprobleme  der  Ethik , 2nd  ed.,  p.  23. 

3 It  is  all  the  more  necessary  for  me  to  indicate  this  important  error  of  the  fashionable 
philosopher  as  I myself  was  guilty  of  it  when  I wrote  my  dissertation  Kritika  otvletchonnih 
natchal  [The  Critique  of  Abstract  Principles ). 


70  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

In  truth  it  is  only  one  of  the  three  ultimate  principles  of 
morality  and  it  has  a definite  sphere  of  application,  namely,  it 
determines  our  rightful  relation  to  other  beings  in  our  world.  Pity 
is  the  only  true  foundation  of  altruism , but  altruism  and  morality 
are  not  identical : the  former  is  only  a part  of  the  latter.  It  is 
true  that  ‘ boundless  compassion  for  all  living  beings  is  the  surest 
and  most  secure  foundation,’  not  of  moral  action  in  general,  as 
Schopenhauer  mistakenly  affirms,  but  of  moral  action  in  relation 
to  other  beings  who  are  the  object  of  compassion.  This  relation 
however,  important  as  it  is,  does  not  exhaust  the  whole  of  morality. 
Besides  the  relation  to  his  fellow-men,  man  stands  also  in  a certain 
relation  to  his  own  material  nature  and  to  the  higher  principles 
of  all  existence,  and  these  relations,  too,  require  to  be  morally 
determined  so  that  the  good  in  them  may  be  distinguished  from 
the  evil.  A man  who  is  full  of  pity  will  certainly  not  injure  or 
cause  suffering  to  any  one — that  is,  he  will  not  injure  any  one  else , 
but  he  may  very  well  injure  himself  by  indulging  in  carnal  passions 
which  lower  his  human  dignity.  In  spite  of  a most  compassionate 
heart  one  may  be  inclined  to  profligacy  and  other  low  vices,  which, 
though  not  opposed  to  compassion,  are  opposed  to  morality — and 
this  fact  shows  that  the  two  ideas  do  not  coincide.  Schopenhauer 
rightly  insists  that  one  cannot  say,  ‘This  man  is  malicious  and  un- 
just, but  he  is  very  compassionate  ’ ; curiously  enough,  however,  he 
forgets  that  one  may,  and  often  has  to  say,  ‘ So  and  so  is  a sensual 
and  dissolute  man — a profligate,  a glutton,  a drunkard — but  he  is 
very  kind-hearted  ’ ; equally  familiar  is  the  phrase,  ‘Although  so 
and  so  lives  an  exemplary  ascetic  life,  he  is  pitiless  to  his  neighbours.’ 
This  means  that  on  the  one  hand  the  virtue  of  abstinence  is  possible 
apart  from  pity,  and  on  the  other  that  although  strongly  developed 
sympathetic  feelings — pity,  kindness — exclude  the  possibility  of 
evil  actions  in  the  narrow  sense  of  the  term,  i.e.  cruel  actions 
directly  hurtful  to  others,  they  do  not  by  any  means  prevent 
shameful  actions.  And  yet  such  actions  are  not  morally  indifferent 
even  from  the  altruistic  point  of  view.  A kind  drunkard  and 
profligate  may  be  sorry  for  other  people  and  never  wish  to  hurt  them, 
yet  by  his  vice  he  certainly  injures  not  only  himself  but  his  family, 
which  he  may  finally  ruin  without  the  least  intention  of  doing  them 
harm.  If  then  pity  does  not  prevent  such  conduct,  our  inward 
opposition  to  it  must  be  founded  upon  another  aspect  of  our  moral 


PITY  AND  ALTRUISM 


71 


nature,  namely,  upon  the  feeling  of  shame.  The  rules  of 
asceticism 1 spring  from  it  in  the  same  way  as  the  rules  of  altruism 
develop  out  of  the  feeling  of  pity. 

VII 

The  true  essence  of  pity  or  compassion  is  certainly  not  the 
immediate  identification  of  oneself  with  another,  but  the  re- 
cognition of  the  inherent  worth  of  that  other — the  recognition  of 
his  right  to  existence  and  to  possible  welfare.  When  I pity 
another  man  or  animal,  I do  not  confuse  myself  with  him  or  take 
him  for  myself  and  myself  for  him.  I merely  see  in  him  a 
creature  that  is  akin  and  similar  to  me,  with  a consciousness  like 
mine,  and  wishing,  like  I do,  to  live  and  to  enjoy  the  good  things 
of  life.  In  admitting  my  own  right  to  the  fulfilment  of  such 
a desire,  I admit  it  in  the  case  of  others  ; being  painfully  con- 
scious of  every  violation  of  this  right  in  relation  to  me,  of  every 
injury  to  myself,  I respond  in  like  manner  to  the  violation  of  the 
rights  of  others,  to  the  injury  of  others.  Pitying  myself,  I pity 
others.  When  I see  a suffering  creature  I do  not  identify  or 
confuse  it  with  myself,  I merely  imagine  myself  in  its  place  and, 
admitting  its  likeness  to  myself,  compare  its  states  to  my  own, 
and,  as  the  phrase  is,  ‘enter  into  its  position.’  This  equalisation 
(but  not  identification)  between  myself  and  another  which  im- 
mediately and  unconsciously  takes  place  in  the  feeling  of  pity,  is 
raised  by  reason  to  the  level  of  a clear  and  distinct  idea. 

The  intellectual  content  (the  idea)  of  pity  or  compassion,  taken 
in  its  universality,  independently  of  the  subjective  mental  states 
in  which  it  is  manifested — i.e.  taken  logically  and  not  psychologic- 
ally,— is  truth  and  justice.  It  is  true  that  other  creatures  are 
similar  to  me,  and  it  is  just  that  I should  feel  about  them  as  I do 
about  myself.  This  position,  clear  in  itself,  becomes  still  more 
clear  when  tested  negatively.  When  I am  pitiless  or  indifferent 
to  others,  consider  myself  at  liberty  to  injure  them  and  do 
not  think  it  my  duty  to  help  them,  they  appear  to  me  not  what 
they  really  are.  A being  appears  as  merely  a thing,  something 

1 It  is  curious  that  Schopenhauer  admitted  and  even  greatly  exaggerated  the  im- 
portance of  asceticism,  but  for  some  reason  he  completely  excluded  it  from  his  moral 
teaching.  It  is  one  of  the  instances  of  the  incoherent  thinking  of  the  famous  writer. 


72  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

living  appears  as  dead,  conscious — as  unconscious,  what  is  akin  to 
me  appears  as  foreign,  and  what  is  like  me  as  absolutely  differ- 
ent. The  relation  in  which  an  object  is  taken  to  be  not  what 
it  really  is  is  a direct  denial  of  truth  ; and  actions  that  follow 
from  it  will  be  unjust.  Therefore  the  opposite  relation  which  is 
subjectively  expressed  as  the  inner  feeling  of  sympathy,  pity,  or 
compassion  is,  from  the  objective  point  of  view,  expressive  of 
truth , and  actions  following  from  it  will  be.  just.  To  measure  by  a 
different  measure  is  acknowledged  by  all  to  be  an  elementary  in- 
stance of  injustice  ; but  when  I am  pitiless  to  others,  i.e.  treat 
them  as  soulless  and  rightless  things,  and  affirm  myself  as  a 
conscious  being  fully  possessed  of  rights,  I evidently  measure 
with  different  measures  and  crudely  contradict  truth  and  justice. 
On  the  contrary,  when  I pity  others  as  I do  myself,  I measure 
with  one  measure  and  consequently  act  in  accordance  with  truth 
and  justice. 

In  so  far  as  it  is  a constant  quality  and  a practical  principle, 
pitilessness  is  called  egoism.  In  its  pure  and  unmixed  form  consist- 
ent egoism  does  not  exist,  at  any  rate  not  among  human  beings. 
But  in  order  to  understand  the  general  nature  of  egoism  as  such, 
it  is  necessary  to  characterise  it  as  a pure  and  unconditional 
principle.  Its  essence  consists  in  this  : an  absolute  opposition, 
an  impassable  gulf  is  fixed  between  one’s  own  self  and  other 
beings.  I am  everything  to  myself  and  must  be  everything  to 
others,  but  others  are  nothing  in  themselves  and  become  some- 
thing only  as  a means  for  me.  My  life  and  welfare  is  an  end  in 
itself,  the  life  and  welfare  of  others  are  only  a means  for  my 
ends,  the  necessary  environment  for  my  self-assertion.  I am  the 
centre  and  the  world  only  a circumference.  Such  a point  of 
view  is  seldom  put  forward,  but  with  some  reservations  it  un- 
doubtedly lies  at  the  root  of  our  natural  life.  Absolute  egoists 
are  not  to  be  found  on  earth  : every  human  being  appears  to  feel 
pity  at  least  for  some  one,  every  human  being  sees  a fellow-creature 
in  some  one  person  at  least.  But  restricted  within  certain 
limits  — usually  very  narrow  ones — egoism  manifests  itself  all 
the  more  clearly  in  other,  wider  spheres.  A person  who  does 
not  take  up  the  egoistic  attitude  towards  his  own  relatives,  i.e. 
who  includes  his  family  within  his  self,  all  the  more  mercilessly 
opposes  this  widened  self  to  all  that  is  external  to  it.  A person 


PITY  AND  ALTRUISM 


73 


who  extends  his  self — quite  superficially  as  a rule — to  include 
his  whole  nation,  adopts  the  egoistic  point  of  view,  with  all  the 
greater  fierceness,  both  for  himself  and  for  his  nation,  in  relation 
to  other  nations  and  races,  etc.  The  fact  that  the  circle  of  inner 
solidarity  is  widened  and  the  egoism  is  transferred  from  the  in- 
dividual to  the  family,  the  nation,  and  the  state  is  unquestionably 
of  great  moral  significance  to  the  life  of  humanity,  for  within  a 
given  circle  selfishness  is  restricted,  outweighed,  or  even  com- 
pletely replaced  by  humane  and  moral  relations.  But  this  does 
not  destroy  the  principle  of  egoism  in  humanity,  which  consists  in 
the  absolute  inner  opposition  of  oneself  and  one’s  own  to  what  is 
other  than  it — in  fixing  a gulf  between  the  two.  This  principle 
is  essentially  false,  for  in  reality  there  is  not,  and  there  cannot  be, 
any  such  gulf,  any  absolute  opposition.  It  is  clear  that  exclusive- 
ness, egoism,  pitilessness  is  essentially  the  same  thing  as  untruth. 
Egoism  is  in  the  first  place  fantastic  and  unreal , it  affirms  what 
does  not  and  cannot  exist.  To  consider  oneself  (in  the  narrow 
or  in  the  wide  sense)  as  the  exclusive  centre  of  the  universe  is  at 
bottom  as  absurd  as  to  believe  oneself  to  be  a glass  seat  or  the 
constellation  of  Ursa  Major.1 

If,  then,  egoism  is  condemned  by  reason  as  a senseless  affirma- 
tion of  what  is  non-existent  and  impossible,  the  opposite  principle 
of  altruism,  psychologically  based  upon  the  feeling  of  pity,  is 
entirely  justified  both  by  reason  and  by  conscience.  In  virtue  of 
this  principle  the  individual  person  admits  that  other  beings  are, 
just  like  himself,  relative  centres  of  being  and  of  living  force. 
This  is  an  affirmation  of  truth,  an  admission  of  what  truly  is. 
From  this  truth,  to  which  the  feeling  of  pity,  roused  by  other 
beings  akin  and  alike  to  us,  inwardly  bears  witness  in  every  soul, 
reason  deduces  a principle  or  a law  with  regard  to  all  other  beings  : 
Do  unto  others  as  you  would  they  should  do  unto  you. 

1 Theoretical  proof  of  the  reality  of  the  external  world  and  of  the  inner  conscious 
life  of  beings  is  offered  in  metaphysics.  Moral  philosophy  is  concerned  only  with  a 
general  consciousness  of  this  truth,  which  even  the  extreme  egoist  involuntarily  accepts. 
When  for  his  selfish  purposes  he  wants  the  help  of  other  people  not  dependent  on  him, 
he  treats  them,  contrary  to  his  fundamental  principle,  as  actual,  independent  persons 
fully  possessed  of  rights  ; he  tries  to  persuade  them  to  side  with  him,  takes  their  own 
interests  into  consideration.  Thus  egoism  contradicts  itself,  and  is  in  any  case  a false 
point  of  view. 


74  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


VIII 

The  general  rule  or  principle  of  altruism1  naturally  falls  into 
two  more  particular  ones.  The  beginning  of  this  division  may 
be  seen  already  in  the  fundamental  altruistic  feeling  of  pity.  If 
I am  genuinely  sorry  for  a person,  in  the  first  place  I would  not 
myself  cause  him  harm  or  suffering,  would  not  injure  him,  and 
secondly,  when,  independently  of  me,  he  suffers  pain  or  injury, 
I would  help  him.  Hence  follow  two  rules  of  altruism,  the 
negative  and  the  positive  : (i)  Do  not  to  others  what  you  do  not 
wish  others  to  do  to  you.  (2)  Do  to  others  what  you  would  wish 
others  to  do  to  you.  More  briefly  and  simply,  these  two  rules,  which 
are  usually  joined  together,  are  expressed  as  follows  : Do  not  injure 
any  one , and  help  every  one  so  far  as  you  are  able  (N eminent  laede , 
imo  omnes , quantum  potes,  juva). 

The  first,  negative,  rule  is,  more  particularly,  called  the  rule  of 
justice,  and  the  second  the  rule  of  mercy.  But  this  distinction  is 
not  quite  correct,  for  the  second  rule,  too,  is  founded  upon  justice  : 
if  I want  others  to  help  me  when  in  need,  it  is  just  that  I,  too, 
should  help  them.  On  the  other  hand,  if  I do  not  wish  to  injure 
any  one,  it  is  because  I recognise  others  to  be  living  and  sentient 
beings  like  myself;  and  in  that  case  I will,  of  course,  as  much  as 
in  me  lies,  save  them  from  suffering.  I do  not  injure  them  because 
I pity  them,  and  if  I pity  them,  I will  also  help  them.  Mercy 
presupposes  justice,  and  justice  demands  mercy — they  are  merely 
different  aspects  or  different  manifestations  of  one  and  the  same 
thing.2 

1 This  term,  introduced  by  the  founder  of  Positivism,  Auguste  Comte,  is  the  exact 
expression  of  the  logical  antithesis  to  egoism  and  therefore  answers  to  a real  need  of 
philosophical  language  (altruism,  from  alter , other,  like  egoism,  from  ego,  self).  Our 
violent  opponents  of  foreign  words  ought  to  be  consistent,  and  if  they  object  to  altruism, 
they  should  also  renounce  the  word  egoism.  Instead  of  these  terms  they  may  use  the 
words  ‘ yatchestvo  ’ (‘  selfness  ’)  and  ‘ druzhatchcstvo  ’ (‘  otherism  ’)  ; the  former  term,  I 
believe,  has  already  been  used.  If  it  were  a question  of  merely  psychological  definitions, 
the  words  self-love  and  love  of  others  could  be  substituted,  but  including  as  they  do  the 
idea  of  love,  they  are  unsuitable  for  the  designation  of  ethical  principles  which  are 
concerned  not  with  feelings  but  with  rules  of  action.  One  may  love  oneself  far  more 
than  others,  and  yet,  on  principle,  work  for  the  good  of  others  as  much  as  for  one’s 
own.  Such  a person  would  undoubtedly  be  an  altruist,  but  it  would  be  equally  absurd 
to  speak  of  him  as  ‘a  lover  of  self’  or  ‘a  lover  of  others.’ 

2 In  Hebrew  sedek  means  ‘just,’  and  the  noun  derived  from  it,  sedeka,  means 
‘ benevolence.’ 


PITY  AND  ALTRUISM 


75 


' There  is  a real  distinction  between  these  two  sides  or  degrees 
of  altruism,  but  there  is  not,  and  there  cannot  be,  any  opposition 
or  contradiction.  Not  to  help  others  means  to  injure  them  ; a 
consistently  just  man  will  inevitably  do  works  of  mercy,  and  the 
truly  merciful  man  cannot  at  the  same  time  be  unjust.  The 
fact  that  the  two  altruistic  rules,  in  spite  of  all  the  difference 
between  them,  are  inseparable , is  very  important  as  providing 
the  foundation  for  the  inner  connection  between  legal  justice 
and  morality,  and  between  the  political  and  the  spiritual  life  of 
the  community. 

The  general  rule  of  altruism — cdo  unto  others  as  you  would  they 
should  do  unto  you  ’ — by  no  means  presupposes  the  material  or  the 
qualitative  equality  of  all  the  individuals.  There  exists  no  such 
equality  in  nature,  and  it  would  be  meaningless  to  demand  it.  It 
is  not  a question  of  equality,  but  simply  of  the  equal  right  to  exist 
and  to  develop  the  good  potentialities  of  one’s  nature.  A wild 
man  of  the  Bush  has  as  much  right  to  exist  and  to  develop  in  his 
way,  as  St.  Francis  of  Assisi  or  Goethe  had  in  theirs.  And  we 
must  respect  this  right  equally  in  all  cases.  The  murder  of  a 
savage  is  as  much  a sin  as  the  murder  of  a genius  or  a saint.  But 
this  does  not  imply  that  they  are,  therefore,  of  the  same  value  in 
other  respects,  and  must  be  treated  equally  outside  the  scope  of 
this  universal  human  right.  Material  equality,  and  therefore 
equality  of  rights,  does  not  exist  either  between  different  beings 
or  in  one  and  the  same  being  whose  particular  and  definite  rights 
and  duties  change  with  the  changes  in  age  and  position  ; they 
are  not  the  same  in  children  and  in  adults,  in  mental  disease  or  in 
health.  And  yet  a person’s  fundamental  or  universally  human  rights 
and  his  moral  value  as  an  individual  remain  the  same.  Nor  is 
it  destroyed  by  the  infinite  variety  and  inequality  of  separate 
persons,  tribes,  and  classes.  In  all  these  differences  there  must 
be  preserved  something  identical  and  absolute,  namely,  the 
significance  of  each  person  as  an  end  in  himself  that  is  to  say, 
his  significance  as  something  that  cannot  be  merely  a means  for 
the  ends  of  others. 

The  logical  demands  of  altruism  are  all-embracing,  reason 
shows  no  favours,  knows  no  barriers  ; in  this  respect  it  coincides 
with  the  feeling  upon  which  altruism  is  psychologically  based. 
Pity,  as  we  have  seen,  is  also  universal  and  impartial,  and  through 


76  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

it  man  may  be ‘made  like  to  God,’  for  his  compassion  equally 
embraces  all,  without  distinction — the  good  and  ‘ the  enemies 
of  truth,’  men  and  demons,  and  even  ‘all  of  the  crawling 
kind.’ 1 

1 The  question  as  to  our  moral  duties  to  animals  will  be  considered  in  a special 
appendix  at  the  end  of  the  book,  in  addition  to  special  references  to  it  in  Part  II.  and 
Part  III. 


CHAPTER  IV 


THE  RELIGIOUS  PRINCIPLE  IN  MORALITY 

I 

Although  the  moral  rules  of  justice  and  mercy,  psychologically 
based  upon  the  feeling  of  pity,  include  in  their  extension  the  whole 
realm  of  living  creatures,  their  intension  does  not  exhaust  the  moral 
relations  that  hold  even  between  human  beings.  Take,  in  the 
first  place,  the  moral  relation  of  children — young,  but  already  able 
to  understand  the  demands  of  morality — to  their  parents.  It 
undoubtedly  contains  a peculiar,  specific  element,  irreducible  either 
to  justice  or  to  kindness  and  underivable  from  pity.  A child 
immediately  recognises  his  parents’  superiority  over  himself,  his 
dependence  upon  them  ; he  feels  reverence  for  them,  and  there 
follows  from  it  the  practical  duty  of  obedience.  All  this  lies 
outside  the  boundaries  of  simple  altruism,  the  logical  essence  of 
which  consists  in  my  recognising  another  as  my  equal,  as  a being 
like  myself  and  in  attaching  the  same  significance  to  him  as  I do 
to  myself.  The  moral  relation  of  children  to  their  parents,  so 
far  from  being  determined  by  equality,  has  quite  the  opposite 
character — it  is  based  upon  the  recognition  of  that  in  which  the 
two  are  unequal.  And  the  ultimate  psychological  basis  of  the 
moral  relation  in  this  case  cannot  be  the  participation  in  the 
sufferings  of  others  (pity),  for  the  parents  immediately  appear  to 
the  child  not  as  needing  the  help  of  others,  but  as  being  able  to 
help  it  in  its  needs. 

This  relation  is  not,  of  course,  opposed  to  justice,  but  it 
contains  something  in  addition  to  it.  The  general  principle  of 
justice  requires  that  our  relation  to  others  should  be  what  we  wish 
their  relation  to  be  to  us.  It  may  logically  include  the  moral 

77 


78  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

relation  of  children  to  parents  : in  loving  its  mother  or  father,  the 
child,  of  course,  wants  them  to  love  it.  But  there  is  an  essential 
difference  between  these  two  forms  of  love — that  which  the  child 
feels  for  its  parents,  and  that  which  it  wants  them  to  feel  for  it — and 
the  difference  does  not  spring  from  the  general  principle  itself. 
The  first  relation  is  characterised  by  the  feeling  of  admiration  for 
the  higher  and  by  the  duty  of  obedience  to  it,  while  no  such 
reverence  and  submission  is  required  by  the  child  from  the  parents. 
Of  course,  formal  reflection  may  be  pursued  further,  and  it  may 
be  affirmed  that  the  children  (when  they  reach  the  years  of  discre- 
tion, of  course),  in  revering  their  parents  and  obeying  them,  wish 
to  be  treated  in  the  same  way  by  their  own  children  in  the  future. 
This  circumstance,  however,  merely  establishes  the  abstract 
relation  between  the  general  idea  of  justice  and  filial  love  ; it 
certainly  does  not  account  for  the  peculiar  nature  of  that  love. 
Apart  from  all  problematic  thought  of  future  children,  the  moral 
feeling  of  a real  child  to  its  parents  has  a sufficient  basis  in  the 
actual  relationship  between  this  child  and  its  parents— namely,  in 
its  entire  dependence  upon  them  as  its  Providence.  This  fact 
inevitably  involves  the  admission  of  their  essential  superiority,  and 
from  it  logically  follows  the  duty  of  obedience.  Thus  filial  love 
acquires  quite  a peculiar  character  of  respect  or  reverence  (pietas 
erga  parent es\  which  carries  it  beyond  the  general  limits  of  simple 
altruism. 

It  may  be  observed  that  parental  (especially  maternal)  love,  or 
pity,  which  is  the  first  and  the  most  fundamental  expression  of  the 
altruistic  attitude,  presupposes  the  same  inequality,  but  in  the 
opposite  direction.  Here,  however,  the  inequality  is  not  essential. 
When  parents  pity  their  helpless  children  and  take  care  of  them, 
they  know  from  their  own  experience  the  pain  of  hunger,  cold,  etc., 
which  rouse  their  pity,  so  that  this  is  really  a case  of  comparing 
or  equalising  the  states  of  another  person  with  one’s  own  states  of 
the  same  kind.  A child,  on  the  contrary,  has  never  experienced 
for  itself  the  advantages  of  mature  age,  which  call  forth  in  it  a 
feeling  of  respect  or  reverence  for  its  parents,  and  make  it  see 
higher  beings  in  them.  Parents  pity  their  children  because  of  their 
likeness  to  themselves,  because  of  their  being  the  same,  though,  as 
a matter  of  fact,  unequal.  Inequality,  in  this  case,  is  purely 
accidental.  But  the  specific  feeling  of  children  to  their  parents 


THE  RELIGIOUS  PRINCIPLE  IN  MORALITY  79 

is  essentially  determined  by  the  superiority  of  the  latter,  and  is 
therefore  directly  based  upon  inequality. 

If  one  carefully  observes  a child  who  tries  to  defend  its  mother 
from  an  actual  or  imaginary  insult,  it  will  be  easily  seen  that  its 
dominant  feelings  are  anger  and  indignation  at  the  blasphemer. 
It  is  not  so  much  sorry  for  the  offended  as  angry  with  the  offender. 
The  child’s  feelings  are  essentially  similar  to  those  that  animate 
the  crowd  defending  its  idol.  44  Great  is  Diana  of  the  Ephesians  ! 
death  to  the  ungodly  ! ” 

All  manifestations  of  pity  and  of  altruism  that  follow  from  it 
are  essentially  conditioned  by  equality.  Inequality  is  merely  an 
accidental  and  transitory  element  in  them.  In  pitying  another, 
I assimilate  myself  to  him,  imagine  myself  in  his  place,  get,  so  to 
speak,  into  his  skin — and  this  in  itself  presupposes  my  equality 
with  him  as  a fellow-creature.  In  recognising  another  as  equal 
to  himself,  the  person  who  experiences  pity,  compares  the  state  of 
that  other  to  similar  states  of  himself,  and  from  the  likeness  between 
them  deduces  the  moral  duty  of  sympathy  and  help. 

Non  ignara  mail  miseris  succurrere  discor.1  To  pity  another, 
I must  compare  myself  to  him  or  him  to  me.  The  assumption 
of  essential  inequality  or  heterogeneity,  excluding  as  it  does  the 
thought  of  similar  states,  destroys  the  very  root  of  pity  and  of  all 
altruistic  relation.  4 The  twice  born  ’ Hindu  is  pitiless  to  the 
Sfidras  and  Pariahs.  His  relation  to  them  is  based  on  inequality, 
i.e.  precisely  on  the  impossibility  of  comparing  himself  with  them. 
He  cannot  put  himself  in  their  place,  assimilate  their  states  to  his, 
and  cannot,  therefore,  sympathise  with  them.  In  this  case,  just 
as  in  the  case  of  the  white  planters’  attitude  to  the  negroes,  or  of 
our  old  serf-owners  to  4 the  brood  of  Ham,’  it  was  sought  to 
justify  the  cruel  relation  which  existed  as  a fact  by  the  conception 
of  a fundamental  inequality  or  heterogeneity. 

Such  recognition  of  inequality  is  purely  negative  ; it  severs  the 
bond  of  union  between  beings  and  generates  or  justifies  all  kinds 
of  immoral  relations.  A different  character  attaches  to  that 
positive  inequality  which  we  find  in  filial  love  or  piety.  The 
inequality  between  a Brahmin  and  a Pariah,  or  between  a planter 
and  a negro,  destroys  the  unity  of  feeling  and  of  interests  between 

1 ‘Having  known  trouble  myself,  I learn  to  help  those  who  suffer’  (the  words  of 
Dido  in  Virgil’s  Aeneid.). 


8o  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

them  ; but  the  superiority  of  the  parents  over  the  children  is,  on 
the  contrary,  the  condition  of  their  unity  and  the  basis  of  a 
particular  kind  of  moral  relation.  This  is  the  natural  root  of 
religions  morality , which  forms  a distinct  and  important  part  in  the 
spiritual  life  of  man,  independently  of  all  particular  religions  and 
systems  of  metaphysics. 


II 

Since  the  appearance  of  De  Brosses’s  book  in  the  last  century 
the  theory  of  the  ‘ gods-fetishes  ’ began  to  gain  ground,  and  of 
late  has  become  extremely  popular  under  the  influence  of  Auguste 
Comte’s  positive  philosophy.  According  to  this  view,  the  primitive 
form  of  religion  is  fetishism , i.e.  the  deification  of  material  objects, 
partly  natural  (stones,  trees)  and  partly  artificial,  which  have 
accidentally  drawn  attention  to  themselves  or  have  been  arbitrarily 
chosen.  The  beginnings  or  the  remains  of  such  a material  cult 
are  undoubtedly  found  in  all  religions  ; but  to  regard  fetishism  as 
the  fundamental  and  primitive  religion  of  humanity  is  contrary 
both  to  the  evidence  of  history  and  sociology  and  to  the  demands 
of  logic.  (Fetishism  may,  however,  have  a deeper  meaning,  as  the 
founder  of  positivism  himself  began  to  suspect  in  the  second  half 
of  his  career.) 

In  order  to  recognise  a stone,  a bit  of  tree,  or  a shell  as  a god, 
i.e.  as  a being  of  superior  power  and  importance,  one  must  already 
possess  the  idea  of  a higher  being.  I could  not  mistake  a rope  for 
a snake  did  I not  already  possess  the  idea  of  the  snake.  But  what 
could  the  idea  of  the  deity  be  derived  from  ? The  material  objects 
which  are  made  into  fetishes  and  idols  have  in  themselves,  in  their 
actual  sensuous  reality,  no  attributes  of  a higher  being.  The  idea, 
therefore,  cannot  be  derived  from  them.  To  call  it  innate  is  not 
to  give  an  answer  to  the  question.  All  that  takes  place  in  man  is 
in  a sense  innate  in  him.  There  is  no  doubt  that  man  is  by  nature 
capable  of  forming  an  idea  of  a higher  being,  for  otherwise  he 
would  not  have  formed  it.  The  question  is  asked  not  about  the 
existence  of  this  capacity  but  about  its  original  application , which 
must  have  some  immediate  sufficient  reason.  In  order  to  pass  into 
actual  consciousness  every  idea,  even  when  potentially  present  in 
the  human  intellect,  and  in  this  sense  innate,  requires  that  certain 


THE  RELIGIOUS  PRINCIPLE  IN  MORALITY  81 


sensuous  impressions  or  perceptions  should  call  it  forth  and  give 
it  a living  concrete  form,  which  subsequently  undergoes  a further 
process  of  intellectual  modification,  and  is  made  wider  and  deeper, 
more  complex  and  more  exact.  But  the  actual  impressions  from 
a chunk  of  wood  or  a rudely  fashioned  figure  are  not  a sufficient 
ground  for  calling  forth  for  the  first  time  in  the  mind  the  idea  of 
a higher  being,  or  for  helping  to  fashion  that  idea.  More  suitable 
in  this  respect  are  the  impressions  from  the  sun  and  the  moon, 
the  starry  heaven,  thunderstorm,  sea,  rivers,  etc.  But  long  before 
the  mind  becomes  capable  of  dwelling  on  these  events  and  of 
judging  their  significance,  it  has  been  given  impressions  of  another 
kind — more  familiar  and  more  powerful — for  generating  in  it  the 
idea  of  a higher  being.  When  dealing  with  the  origin  of  some 
fundamental  idea  in  human  consciousness,  we  must  think  of  the 
child  and  not  of  the  adult.  Now  it  is  perfectly  certain  that  the 
child  is  far  more  conscious  of  its  dependence  upon  its  mother,  who 
feeds  and  takes  care  of  it  (and  later  on,  on  its  father),  than  of  its  de- 
pendence upon  the  sun,  the  thunderstorm,  or  the  river  that  irrigates 
the  fields  of  its  native  land.  The  impressions  it  has  from  the  first 
of  its  parents  contain  sufficient  ground  for  evoking  in  it  the  idea 
of  a higher  being  as  well  as  the  feelings  of  reverential  love  and 
fear  of  an  immeasurable  power.  These  feelings  are  associated 
with  the  idea  of  a higher  being  and  form  the  basis  of  the  religious 
attitude.  It  is  an  unquestionable  fact,  and  a perfectly  natural  one, 
that  until  they  reach  a certain  age  children  pay  no  attention  at  all 
to  the  most  important  natural  phenomena.  The  sun  appears  no 
more  remarkable  to  them  than  a simple  lamp,  and  the  thunder 
produces  no  more  impression  upon  them  than  the  rattle  of  crockery. 
In  my  own  case  the  first  impression  of  the  starry  sky  that  I 
remember  refers  to  my  sixth  year,  and  even  then  it  was  due  to  a 
special  reason  (the  comet  of  1859),  while  the  series  of  clear  and 
connected  family  memories  begins  in  my  fourth  year.  Neither  in 
life  nor  in  literature  have  I seen  any  indications  to  the  reverse 
order  of  development  in  children  ; and  if  we  saw  a baby  of  three 
years  old  suddenly  develop  an  interest  in  astronomical  phenomena, 
I think  we  should  feel  distinctly  alarmed. 

Not  in  accidental  fetishes  and  hand-made  idols,  not  in  majestic 
or  terrible  phenomena  of  nature,  but  in  the  living  image  of  parents 
is  the  idea  of  Godhead  for  the  first  time  embodied  for  humanity 

G 


82  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


in  its  childhood.  For  this  reason  the  moral  element — contrary  to 
current  opinion — has  from  the  first  an  important  though  not  an 
exclusive  significance  for  religion.  According  to  the  elementary 
conception  of  it  the  deity  has  pre-eminently  the  character  of 

Providence. 

At  first  Providence  is  embodied  in  the  mother.  At  the  lower 
stages  of  social  development,  so  long  as  the  marriage  relation  is 
not  yet  organised,  the  importance  of  the  mother  and  the  cult  of 
motherhood  predominate.  Different  peoples,  like  individual  men, 
have  lived  through  an  epoch  of  matriarchy  or  mother-right,  the  traces 
of  which  are  still  preserved  in  history,  in  ancient  customs,  and  also 
in  the  present  life  of  certain  savages.1  But  when  the  patriarchal 
type  of  family  comes  to  be  established,  the  mother  retains  the  part 
of  Providence  only  while  the  children  are  materially  dependent 
upon  her  for  food  and  their  first  education.  At  that  period  the 
mother  is  the  only  higher  being  for  the  child  ; but  as  he  reaches 
the  age  of  reflection  he  sees  that  his  mother  is  herself  dependent 
upon  another  higher  being— his  father,  who  provides  food  for  and 
protects  all  his  family  ; he  is  the  true  Providence,  and  the  religious 
worship  is  naturally  transferred  to  him. 

Ill 

The  religious  attitude  of  children  to  their  parents  as  to  their 
living  Providence,  arising  naturally  in  primitive  humanity,  ex- 
presses itself  most  clearly  and  fully  when  the  children  are  grown 
up  and  the  parents  are  dead.  Worship  of  dead  fathers  and  ancestors 
unquestionably  occupies  the  foremost  place  in  the  development  of 
the  religious,  moral,  and  social  relations  of  humanity.  The  immense 
population  of  China  still  lives  by  the  religion  of  ancestor- worship, 
upon  which  all  the  social,  political,  and  family  structure  of  the 
Middle  Kingdom  is  founded.  And  among  other  peoples  of  the 
globe — savage,  barbarous,  or  civilised,  including  modern  Parisians — 
there  is  not  one  which  does  not  do  homage  to  the  memory  of  the  dead 
in  one  form  or  another.  The  relation  to  living  parents,  although  it 
is  the  first  basis  of  religion,  cannot  have  a purely  religious  character 

1 There  is  a special  literature  on  the  subject  which  first  arose  in  connection  with 
classical  archeology  (Bahofen,  Das  Mutterrecht ),  and  subsequently  passed  into  the 
domain  of  comparative  ethnography  and  sociology. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  PRINCIPLE  IN  MORALITY  83 

owing  to  the  intimacy  and  constant  interaction  in  everyday  life. 
As  a child  grows  up  he  hears  from  his  father  about  his  ancestors 
who  died  and  are  the  object  of  an  already  established  religious 
cult ; thus  the  religion  of  parents  who  are  still  living  is  naturally 
merged  irrto  the  religion  of  parents  who  have  gone,  and  who,  clothed 
in  mysterious  majesty,  are  raised  above  all  that  surrounds  us.  The 
father  in  his  lifetime  is  merely  a candidate  for  deity,  and  is  only 
the  mediator  and  the  priest  of  the  real  god — the  dead  ancestor. 
It  is  not  fear  but  death  that  gives  humanity  its  first  gods.  The 
feeling  of  dependence  and  the  conception  of  Providence,  trans- 
ferred from  the  mother  to  the  father,  become  associated  with  the 
idea  of  the  forefathers  when  the  child  learns  that  the  parents  upon 
whom  he  depends  are  in  a far  greater  dependence  upon  the  dead, 
whose  power  is  not  limited  by  any  conditions  of  the  material 
and  corporeal  existence.  The  idea  of  Providence  and  the  moral 
duties  of  respect,  service,  and  obedience  that  follow  from  it  for 
man  are  thus  transferred  to  them.  To  obey  the  will  of  the 
dead,  one  must  know  it.  Sometimes  they  announce  it  directly, 
appearing  in  a vision  or  a dream  ; in  other  cases  it  must  be  learnt 
through  divination.  The  mediators  between  this  higher  divine 
power  and  ordinary  men  are,  first,  the  living  fathers  or  the  elders 
of  the  tribe,  but  afterwards,  as  the  social  relations  become  more 
complex,  there  arises  a separate  class  of  priests,  diviners,  sorcerers, 
and  prophets. 

It  is  only  a subjective  misanthropic  mood  that  can  reduce 
filial  sentiments  even  in  the  primitive  races  to  fear  alone,  to  the 
exclusion  of  gratitude  and  of  a disinterested  recognition  of 
superiority.  If  these  moral  elements  are  unquestionably  present 
in  the  relation  of  a dog  to  its  master  in  whom  it  sees  its  living 
Providence,  they  must  a fortiori  form  part  of  the  feelings  of  man 
to  his  Providence,  originally  embodied  for  him  in  his  parents. 
When  this  interpretation  is  transferred  to  the  dead  ancestors,  their 
cult  also  carries  with  it  the  moral  element  of  filial  love,  which 
is  in  this  case  clearly  differentiated  from  simple  altruism  and 
acquires  a predominantly  religious  character. 

According  to  a well-known  theory,  whose  chief  representative 
is  Herbert  Spencer,  the  whole  of  religion  can  be  traced  to  ancestor- 
worship.  Although  this  view  does  not  express  the  complete  truth, 
it  is  far  more  correct  and  suggestive  than  the  theory  of  primitive 


8 4 THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

fetishism  or  the  theories  which  reduce  all  religion  to  the  deification 
of  the  sun,  the  thunder,  and  other  natural  phenomena.  The 
objects  of  religious  worship  were  always  active  beings  or  spirits  in 
the  likeness  of  man.  There  can  hardly  be  a doubt  that  the 
prototype  of  spirits  were  the  souls  of  the  departed  ancestors.  In 
Lithuania  and  Poland  the  general  name  for  all  spirits  is  forefathers 
— dziady  ; with  us  the  elementary  spirits  are  spoken  of  as 
grandfather  water  - sprite,  grandfather  of  the  forest,  the  master 
house-spirit.  Ovid’s  Metamorphoses , chiefly  borrowed  from  the 
popular  beliefs  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  are  full  of  stories 
of  the  dead  or  dying  men  passing  into  the  elementary,  the 
zoomorphic,  and  the  phytomorphic  (vegetative)  deities  and  spirits. 
The  most  widespread  form  of  fetishism — the  stone  worship — is 
undoubtedly  connected  with  the  cult  of  the  dead.  Among  the 
Laps,  Buriates,  and  other  peoples,  the  names  of  the  ancestors  or  the 
sorcerers  who  were  transformed  into  the  sacred  stones  are  re- 
membered after  death.1  This  transformation  cannot  be  understood 
in  the  sense  that  the  spirit  of  the  dead  becomes  a stone,  i.e.  a soulless 
thing  ; on  the  contrary,  it  retains  the  power  that  it  had  in  its  life- 
time, and  is  indeed  more  powerful  than  it  was  then.  Thus  among 
the  Laps  the  petrified  sorcerers  foretell  and  cause  storms  and  bad 
weather  in  all  the  neighbourhood.  The  stone  in  this  case  is  merely 
the  visible  abode  of  the  spirit,  the  instrument  of  its  action.  Among 
the  Semites  sacred  stones  were  called  beth-el, , that  is,  ‘ house  of  god.’ 
The  same  thing  must  be  said  about  sacred  trees. 

It  is  a well-known  fact  that  among  the  Africans  and  other 
peoples  the  sorcerers  are  supposed  to  have  for  their  chief  character- 
istic the  power  of  controlling  atmospheric  events,  of  producing 
good  and  bad  weather.  This  power  is  ascribed  in  a still  greater 
degree  and  more  directly  to  the  spirits  of  the  dead  sorcerers,  whose 
living  successors  serve  merely  as  their  mediators  and  messengers. 
Now  such  a powerful  spirit  of  a dead  sorcerer,  who  produces 
at  his  will  thunder  and  storm,  differs  in  no  way  from  a thunder 
god.  There  is  no  rational  necessity  to  seek  for  a different 
explanation  of  father  Zeus  or  of  grandfather  Percunas. 

It  is  not  my  object  here  to  expound  and  explain  the  history 
of  religious  development,  and  I will  not  attempt  to  solve  the 

1 See,  among  other  things,  Harusin’s  book  on  Laplanders,  and  my  article  Ostatki 
pervobitnago  yaxitchestva  ( The  Remains  of  Primitive  Paganism ). 


THE  RELIGIOUS  PRINCIPLE  IN  MORALITY  85 

question  as  to  how  far  a genetic  tie  may  be  established  between 
the  cult  of  the  dead  and  the  solar,  lunar,  and  stellar  mythology.  I 
will  only  mention  some  suggestive  facts.  In  Egypt  the  solar  deity 
Osiris  reigned  over  the  unseen  world  of  the  dead.  In  classical 
mythology  Hecate  was  one  of  the  deities  of  Hades.  According  to 
an  ancient  belief  preserved  in  Manicheism  the  moon  is  an  inter- 
mediate resting-place  for  the  souls  of  the  departed.  I would  also 
like  to  observe  that  the  end  of  the  theogonic  process  is  true  to  its 
beginning  — that  the  religious  consciousness  at  its  highest  stage 
merely  deepens  and  widens  the  content  we  find  at  the  primitive 
stages.  The  religion  of  a primitive  human  family  centres  round 
the  idea  of  the  father  or  the  nearest  ancestor,  first  as  living,  then 
as  dead.  Their  own  particular  parent  is  the  highest  principle  for 
the  family,  the  source  of  its  life  and  welfare,  the  object  of  respect, 
gratitude,  and  obedience — in  a word,  its  Providence.  Through  a 
natural  historical  process  there  arise  the  communal  and  the  tribal 
gods,  until  at  last  the  religious  consciousness  of  humanity,  united 
in  thought  if  not  in  fact,  rises  to  the  idea  of  the  universal 
Heavenly  Father  with  His  all-embracing  Providence. 

IV 

The  development  of  a religious  idea  involves  a change  in  its 
extension,  and  also  in  the  nature  of  the  intellectual  concepts  and 
practical  rules  contained  in  it.  But  it  does  not  affect  the  moral 
content  of  religion,  i.e.  man’s  fundamental  relation  to  what  he 
admits  as  higher  than  himself — -to  what  he  recognises  as  his 
Providence.  That  relation  remains  unchanged  in  all  the  forms  and 
at  all  the  stages  of  religious  development.  The  ideas  of  the  child 
about  its  parents,  of  the  members  of  a tribe  about  the  spirit  of  their 
first  ancestor,  the  ideas  of  entire  peoples  about  their  national 
gods,  and  finally,  the  general  human  idea  of  the  one  all-good 
Father  of  all  that  is,  differ  essentially  from  one  another,  and 
there  is  also  great  difference  in  the  forms  of  worship.  The  real 
tie  between  father  and  children  needs  no  special  institutions  and 
no  mediation  ; but  the  relation  with  the  invisible  spirit  of  the 
ancestor  must  be  maintained  by  special  means.  The  spirit  cannot 
partake  of  ordinary  human  food.  It  feeds  on  the  evaporation  of 
blood,  and  has  therefore  to  be  fed  by  sacrifices.  Family  sacrifices 


86  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

to  the  spirit  of  the  tribe  naturally  differ  from  communal  sacrifices 
to  the  national  gods ; the  c god  of  war’  has  greater  and  different 
requirements  than  the  patron-spirit  of  the  home,  and  the  all- 
embracing  and  all-pervading  Father  of  the  universe  requires  no 
material  sacrifices  at  all,  but  only  worship  in  spirit  and  in  truth. 
But  in  spite  of  all  these  differences,  the  filial  relation  to  the  higher 
being  remains  essentially  the  same  at  all  these  different  stages. 
The  crudest  cannibal  and  the  most  perfect  saint  in  so  far  as  they  are 
religious  agree  in  that  they  both  equally  desire  to  do  not  their  own 
will  but  the  will  of  the  Father.  This  permanent  and  self-identical 
filial  relation  to  the  higher  (whatever  this  higher  may  be  supposed 
to  be)  forms  that  principle  of  true  pietism  which  connects  religion 
with  morality,  and  may  equally  well  be  described  as  the  religious 
element  in  morality  or  the  moral  element  in  religion.1 

Can  this  principle  be  affirmed  as  a generally  binding  moral 
rule,  side  by  side  with  the  principles  of  asceticism  and  altruism  ? 
Apparently  the  filial  relation  to  the  supreme  will  depends  upon 
the  faith  in  that  will,  and  one  cannot  require  such  faith  from  those 
who  have  not  got  it  ; when  there  is  nothing  to  be  had,  it  is  no 
use  making  demands.  But  there  is  a misunderstanding  here. 
The  recognition  of  what  is  higher  than  us  is  independent  of  any 
definite  intellectual  ideas,  and  therefore  of  any  positive  beliefs, 
and  in  its  general  character  it  is  undoubtedly  binding  upon  every 
moral  and  rational  being.  Every  such  being,  in  trying  to 
attain  the  purpose  of  its  life,  is  necessarily  convinced  that  the 
attainment  of  it,  or  the  final  satisfaction  of  will,  is  beyond  the 
power  of  man — that  is,  every  rational  being  comes  to  recognise 
its  dependence  upon  something  invisible  and  unknown.  Such 
dependence  cannot  be  denied.  The  only  question  is  whether 
that  upon  which  I am  dependent  has  a meaning.  If  it  has  not, 
my  existence,  dependent  upon  what  is  meaningless,  is  meaningless 
also.  In  that  case  there  is  no  point  in  speaking  of  any  rational 
and  moral  principles  and  purposes.  They  can  only  have 
significance  on  condition  that  there  is  a meaning  in  my  exist- 
ence, that  the  world  is  a rational  system,  that  meaning 

1 I am  speaking  here  of  pietism  in  the  direct  and  general  sense  of  the  term  as 
designating  the  feeling  of  piety  ( pietas ) raised  to  the  rank  of  a moral  principle.  Usually 
the  term  ‘pietism’  in  a special  historical  senseis  applied  to  a certain  religious  movement 
among  the  Protestants. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  PRINCIPLE  IN  MORALITY  87 

predominates  over  what  is  meaningless  in  the  universe.  If  there 
is  no  rational  purpose  in  the  world  as  a whole,  there  cannot  be 
any  in  that  part  of  it  which  is  composed  of  human  actions 
determined  by  moral  rules.  But  in  that  case  these  rules  too 
fall  to  the  ground,  for  they  do  not  lead  to  anything  and  cannot 
in  any  way  be  justified.  If  my  higher  spiritual  nature  is  merely 
an  accident,  ascetic  struggle  with  the  flesh  may  destroy  my 
spiritual  being  instead  of  strengthening  it ; and  in  that  case 
why  should  I observe  the  rules  of  abstinence  and  deprive  myself 
of  real  pleasures  for  the  sake  of  an  empty  dream  ? In  the  same 
way,  if  there  is  no  rational  and  moral  order  in  the  universe,  and 
our  work  for  the  benefit  of  our  neighbours  may  bring  them 
harm  instead  of  the  intended  help,  the  moral  principle  of 
altruism  is  destroyed  by  inner  self-contradiction.  If,  for  instance, 
I suppose,  with  Schopenhauer,  that  the  ultimate  reality  is  blind 
and  senseless  Will,  and  that  all  existence  is  essentially  pain,  why 
should  I try  and  help  others  to  support  their  existence  ? On 
such  a supposition  it  would  be  far  more  logical  to  use  every 
effort  to  put  to  death  the  largest  possible  number  of  living 
creatures. 

I can  do  good  consciously  and  rationally  only  if  I believe 
in  the  good  and  in  its  objective  independent  significance  in  the 
world,  i.e.  in  other  words,  if  I believe  in  the  moral  order,  in 
Providence,  in  God.  This  faith  is  logically  prior  to  all  particular 
religious  beliefs  and  institutions,  as  well  as  to  all  systems  of 
metaphysics,  and  in  this  sense  it  forms  the  so-called  natural 
religion. 

V 

The  natural  religion  gives  rational  sanction  to  all  the 
demands  of  morality.  Suppose  reason  directly  tells  us  that  it  is 
good  to  subordinate  the  flesh  to  the  spirit,  that  it  is  good  to  help 
others  and  to  recognise  the  rights  of  other  people  like  our  own. 
Now  in  order  to  obey  these  demands  of  reason,  one  must  believe 
in  reason — believe  that  the  good  it  requires  from  us  is  not  a 
subjective  illusion,  but  has  real  grounds  and  expresses  the 
truth,  and  that  that  truth  cis  great  and  overcomes.’  Not  to 
have  this  faith  is  to  disbelieve  that  one’s  own  existence  has  a 
meaning — is  to  renounce  the  dignity  of  a rational  being. 


88  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

The  absence  of  a natural  religion  is  often  fictitious.  A 
negative  relation  to  this  or  that  form  or  degree  of  religious 
consciousness,  predominant  at  a given  time  and  at  a given  place, 
is  easily  taken  for  denial  of  religion  as  such.  Thus  the  Pagans 
of  the  Roman  Empire  thought  the  Christians  godless  (afieoi), 
and  from  their  point  of  view  they  were  right,  for  the  Christians 
did  reject  all  their  gods.  Apart  from  this,  however,  there  exist 
cases  of  real  godlessness  or  unbelief,  t.e.  of  denying  on  principle 
anything  higher  than  oneself— of  denying  good,  reason,  truth. 
But  the  fact  of  such  denial,  which  coincides  with  the  denial  of 
morality  in  general,  can  be  no  more  an  argument  against  the 
generally  binding  character  of  the  religiously-moral  principle 
than  the  existence  of  shameless  and  carnal,  or  of  pitiless  and  cruel 
men  is  an  argument  against  the  moral  duty  of  abstinence  and 
charity. 

Religious  morality,  as  all  morality  in  general,  is  not  a 
confirmation  of  everything  that  is,  but  an  affirmation  of  the  one 
thing  that  ought  to  be.  Independently  of  all  positive  beliefs  or 
of  any  unbelief,  every  man  as  a rational  beipg  must  admit  that 
the  life  of  the  world  as  a whole  and  his  own  life  in  particular  has 
a meaning , and  that  therefore  everything  depends  upon  a supreme 
rational  principle,  in  virtue  of  which  this  meaning  is  preserved 
and  realised.  And  in  admitting  this,  he  must  put  himself  into 
a filial  position  in  relation  to  the  supreme  principle  of  life,  that 
is,  gratefully  surrender  himself  to  its  providence,  and  submit  all 
his  actions  to  the  ‘will  of  the  Father,’  which  speaks  through 
reason  and  conscience. 

Just  as  the  intellectual  ideas  about  the  parents  and  the 
external  practical  relations  to  them  alter  according  to  the  age  of 
the  children,  while  the  filial  love  must  remain  unchanged,  so 
the  theological  conceptions  and  the  forms  of  worship  of  the 
Heavenly  Father  assume  many  forms  and  undergo  many  changes 
with  the  spiritual  growth  of  humanity  ; but  the  religiously-moral 
attitude  of  free  subordination  of  one’s  will  to  the  demands  of 
a higher  principle  must  always  and  everywhere  remain  the 
same. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  PRINCIPLE  IN  MORALITY  89 


VI 

Speaking  generally,  in  morality  the  higher  demands  do  not 
cancel  the  lower,  but  presuppose  and  include  them.  This  might 
seem  to  be  a matter  of  course  ; and  yet  many  have  failed,  and 
still  fail,  to  understand  this  simple  and  obvious  truth.  Thus, 
according  to  the  teaching  of  some  Christian  sects,  both  ancient 
and  modern,  the  higher  rule  of  celibacy  cancels  the  seventh 
commandment  as  inferior,  and  therefore,  in  rejecting  marriage, 
these  sectarians  readily  allow  all  kinds  of  fornication.  It  is 
obvious  that  they  are  in  error.  Similarly,  it  is  thought  by 
many  that  the  higher  rule  of  pitying  all  living  creatures  absolves 
them  from  the  lower  duty  of  pitying  their  family  and  relatives, 
although,  one  would  think,  there  could  be  no  doubt  about  the 
latter  also  belonging  to  the  class  of  living  creatures. 

Still  more  often  such  mistakes  are  made  in  the  domain  of 
religious  morality.  The  higher  stages  of  spiritual  consciousness 
once  reached,  subordinate  to  themselves  and  consequently  change, 
but  by  no  means  cancel,  the  demands  which  had  force  on  the 
lower  stages.  A man  who  has  a conception  of  the  Heavenly 
Father  cannot,  of  course,  regard  his  earthly  father  in  the  same 
way  as  does  a babe  for  whom  the  latter  is  the  only  higher  being  ; 
but  it  does  not  follow  that  the  first  and  the  second  command- 
ments cancel  the  fifth.  We  cannot  now  render  our  dead 
ancestors  the  religious  worship  which  they  had  in  the  patriarchal 
times  ; but  this  does  not  mean  that  we  have  no  duties  to  the 
departed.  We  may  well  be  conscious  of  our  dependence  upon 
the  One  Father  of  the  universe,  but  this  dependence  is  not 
immediate  ; our  existence  is,  without  a doubt,  closely  determined 
by  heredity  and  environment.  Heredity  means  the  forefathers, 
and  it  is  by  them  that  our  environment  has  been  made.  The 
supreme  Will  has  determined  our  existence  through  our  ancestors, 
and,  bowing  down  before  Its  action,  we  cannot  be  indifferent  to 
Its  instruments.  I know  that  if  I were  born  among  cannibals 
I should  be  a cannibal  myself,  and  I cannot  help  feeling  gratitude 
and  reverence  to  men  who  by  their  labour  and  exploits  have 
raised  my  people  from  the  savage  state  and  brought  them  to  the 
level  of  culture  upon  which  they  are  standing  now.  This  has  been 


go  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

done  by  Providence  through  men  who  have  been  specially  called 
and  who  cannot  be  separated  from  their  providential  work.  If 
I praise  and  value  the  fact  that  it  has  been  given  to  my  native 
land,  with  which  my  existence  is  so  closely  interwoven,  to  be  a 
Christian  and  a European  country,  I am  bound  to  hold  in  pious 
remembrance  the  Kiev  prince  who  christened  Russia,  and  that 
northern  giant  who  with  powerful  blows  shattered  the  Muscovo- 
Mongolian  exclusiveness  and  brought  Russia  within  the  circle 
of  educated  nations,  as  well  as  all  those  men  who  in  the  different 
spheres  of  life  moved  us  forward  .along  the  path  opened  by 
those  two  historical  forefathers  of  Russia.  It  is  sometimes 
maintained  that  individuals  count  for  nothing  in  history,  and 
that  what  has  been  done  by  certain  men  would  have  been  done 
just  as  well  by  others.  Speaking  in  the  abstract,  we  might 
of  course  have  been  born  of  other  parents  and  not  of  our  actual 
father  and  mother  ; but  this  idle  thought  about  possible  parents 
does  not  cancel  our  duties  to  the  actual  ones. 

The  providential  men  who  gave  us  a share  in  the  higher 
religion  and  in  human  enlightenment  did  not  themselves  create 
these  in  the  first  instance.  What  they  gave  us  they  had  them- 
selves received  from  the  geniuses,  heroes,  and  saints  of  the 
former  ages,  and  our  grateful  memory  must  include  them  too. 
We  must  reconstruct  as  completely  as  possible  the  whole  line 
of  our  spiritual  ancestors — men  through  whom  Providence  has 
led  humanity  on  the  path  to  perfection.  The  pious  memory  of  our 
ancestors  compels  us  to  do  service  to  them  actively.  The  nature 
of  that  service  is  conditioned  by  the  ultimate  character  of  the 
world  as  a whole,  and  cannot  be  understood  apart  from  theoretical 
philosophy  and  aesthetics.  Here  one  can  only  point  to  the 
moral  principle  involved,  namely,  the  pious  and  grateful  reverence 
due  to  the  forefathers. 

Such  a cult  of  human  ancestors  in  spirit  and  in  truth  does  not 
belittle  the  religion  of  the  one  Heavenly  Father.  On  tfie 
contrary,  it  makes  it  definite  and  real.  It  is  what  He  put  into 
these  ‘chosen  vessels’  that  we  revere  in  them;  in  these  visible 
images  of  the  unseen,  the  Deity  Itself  is  revealed  and  glorified. 
A person  in  whose  mind  the  concrete  images  of  providential 
action  incarnate  in  history  fail  to  evoke  gratitude,  reverence, 
and  homage  will  be  still  less  likely  to  respond  to  the  pure  idea  of 


THE  RELIGIOUS  PRINCIPLE  IN  MORALITY  91 

Providence.  A truly  religious  attitude  to  the  higher  is  impossible 
for  one  who  has  never  experienced  the  feelings  to  which  the 
poet  gives  expression  : 

When,  in  the  drunkenness  of  crime, 

The  crowd  goes  forth  in  violent  rage, 

And  evil  genius  through  the  mire 
Drags  name  of  prophet  and  of  sage, 

My  knees  are  bent  in  one  desire, 

My  head  is  bowed  towards  the  page 
Where  clear  and  open  for  all  time 
They  wrote  the  message  for  their  age. 

I call  up  their  majestic  shades 

In  the  dim  church  where  tumult  fades, 

In  clouds  of  incense  learn  and  glean, 

And  forgetting  the  mob  and  its  vulgar  noise, 

I give  my  ears  to  the  noble  voice 
And  take  full  breath  of  all  they  mean. 


CHAPTER  V 

VIRTUES 

I 

Each  of  the  moral  foundations  I have  laid  down — shame,  pity,  and 
the  religious  feeling — may  be  considered  from  three  points  of 
view  : as  a virtue , as  a rule  of  action,  and  as  the  condition  of  a 
certain  good. 

Thus,  in  relation  to  shame,  we  distinguish,  first  of  all,  persons 
modest  or  shameless  by  nature,  approving  of  the  former  and  con- 
demning the  latter  ; modesty , therefore,  is  recognised  as  a good 
natural  quality  or  as  a virtue.  But  by  that  very  fact  it  is 
abstracted  from  particular  cases  and  is  made  the  norm  or  the 
general  rule  of  action  (and,  through  this,  a basis  for  passing 
judgment  on  actions)  independently  of  the  presence  or  absence 
of  this  virtue  in  this  or  in  that  individual.  If  modesty  is  not 
sometimes  good  and  sometimes  bad  (in  the  way  in  which  a loud 
voice  is  good  at  a public  meeting  and  bad  in  the  room  of  a 
sleeping  invalid)  ; if  modesty  is  a good  in  itself,  reason  requires 
us  in  all  cases  to  act  in  accordance  with  it,  namely,  to  abstain 
from  actions  that  are  shameful — i.e.  that  express  the  predominance 
of  the  lower  nature  over  the  higher — and  to  practise  actions  of 
the  opposite  character.  Behaviour  in  conformity  with  this  rule 
leads  in  the  end  to  permanent  self-control,  to  freedom  of  the 
spirit,  and  its  power  over  the  material  existence  ; that  is,  it  leads 
to  a state  which  affords  us  a certain  higher  satisfaction  and  is  a 
moral  good. 

In  the  same  way,  the  capacity  for  feeling  pity  or  compassion 
(in  opposition  to  selfishness,  cruelty,  and  malice)  is,  in  the  first 
place,  a good  personal  quality  or  virtue.  In  so  far  as  it  is 

92 


VIRTUES 


93 


recognised  as  such,  or  is  approved,  it  provides  the  norm  for 
altruistic  actions  in  accordance  with  the  rules  of  justice  and 
mercy.  And  such  activity  leads  to  the  moral  good  of  true  com- 
munity or  oneness  with  other  men,  and,  finally,  with  all  living 
creatures. 

In  a similar  manner,  a grateful  recognition  of  that  which  is 
higher  than  us,  and  upon  which  we  depend,  is  the  natural  founda- 
tion of  the  virtue  of  piety,  and  at  the  same  time  provides  a 
rational  rule  of  religious  conduct.  It  also  leads  to  the  moral 
good  of  unity  with  the  first  causes  and  bearers  of  existence  : 
with  our  forefathers,  with  the  departed  in  general,  and  with  the 
whole  of  the  invisible  world  which  conditions  our  life  from  this 
point  of  view. 

Since  there  is  an  indissoluble  inner  connection  between  any 
given  virtue,  the  rules  of  action  corresponding  to  it,  and  the 
moral  good  ensuing  therefrom,  there  is  no  need,  in  inquiring 
into  the  subject  more  closely,  to  adopt  every  time  all  the  three 
points  of  view.  It  will  be  sufficient  to  take  one  only,  viz.  the 
point  of  view  of  virtue,  for  it  logically  contains  the  other  two, 
and  no  sharp  line  of  demarcation  can  be  drawn  between  them. 
It  would  be  impossible  to  deny  that  the  man  who  invariably  acted 
in  accordance  with  the  rules  of  virtue  was  virtuous,  even  though 
he  happened  to  possess  but  a small  degree  of  the  corresponding 
natural  faculty,  or  was  noted,  indeed,  by  the  presence  of  the 
opposite  characteristic.  On  the  other  hand,  that  which,  in 
contradistinction  to  virtue,  I call  a moral  good,  is  also  a virtue, 
though  not  as  originally  given  but  as  acquired — it  is  the  norm  of 
activity  which  has  become  second  nature. 

II 

A virtuous  man  is  man  as  he  ought  to  be.  In  other  words, 
virtue  is  man’s  normal  or  due  relation  to  everything  (for  unrelated 
qualities  or  properties  are  unthinkable).  The  due  relation  does 
not  mean  the  same  relation.  In  drawing  the  distinction  between 
the  self  and  the  not  self,  we  necessarily  posit  or  determine  the 
not  self  in  three  ways  : either  as  the  lower  (by  nature),  or  as 
similar  to  us  (of  the  same  kind),  or  as  higher  than  we.  It  is 
obvious  that  there  cannot  be  a fourth  alternative.  Hence  it 


94  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

logically  follows  that  the  right  or  the  moral  relation  must  have  a 
threefold  character.  It  is  clear  that  we  ought  not  to  regard  the 
lower  (say,  an  inclination  of  the  material  nature)  as  if  it  were 
the  higher  [e.g.  a decree  of  the  divine  will)  ; it  would  be 
equally  opposed  to  what  is  right  to  regard  a being  like 
ourselves — say,  a human  being — either  as  lower  than  we  [i.e. 
regard  it  as  a soulless  thing),  or  as  higher  (look  upon  it  as  a 
deity). 

Thus,  instead  of  one,  we  have  three  right  or  moral  relations, 
or  three  kinds  of  virtue,  corresponding  to  the  three  divisions  into 
which  the  totality  of  objects  correlated  with  us  necessarily  falls. 
I say  necessarily , because  man  finds  himself  to  be  neither  the 
absolutely  supreme  or  highest  being,  nor  the  absolutely  sub- 
ordinate or  lowest,  nor,  finally,  alone  of  his  kind.  He  is  conscious 
of  himself  as  an  intermediate  being  and,  moreover,  one  of  the  many 
intermediate.  The  direct  logical  consequence  of  this  fact  is  the 
threefold  character  of  his  moral  relations.  In  virtue  of  it,  one 
and  the  same  quality  or  action  may  have  quite  a different  and 
even  opposite  significance,  according  to  the  kind  of  object  to 
which  it  refers.  Thus,  belittling  oneself  or  recognising  one’s 
worthlessness  is  called  humility , and  is  a virtue  when  it  refers  to 
objects  of  superior  dignity  ; but  in  relation  to  unworthy  objects 
it  is  considered  base  and  is  immoral.1  In  the  same  way,  enthusiasm , 
when  roused  by  high  principles  and  ideals,  is  no  doubt  a virtue  ; 
in  relation  to  indifferent  objects  it  is  an  amusing  weakness  ; and 
directed  upon  objects  of  the  lower  order  it  becomes  a shameful 
mania.  Virtues  in  the  proper  sense  are  always  and  in  every  one 
the  same,  for  they  express  a quality  determined  in  the  right  way, 
and  correspond  to  the  very  meaning  of  one  or  other  of  the  three 
possible  spheres  of  relation.  But  from  these  definite  and  deter- 
mining virtues  must  be  distinguished  qualities  of  will  and  ways  of 
action  which  are  not  in  themselves  morally  determined,  and  do 
not  permanently  correspond  to  a definite  sphere  of  duty.  These 
may  sometimes  be  virtues,  sometimes  indifferent  states,  and  some- 
times even  vices  ; but  the  change  in  the  moral  significance  is 

1 In  English  the  word  humility  has  possibly  a less  conditional  sense,  as  a state  of 
mind  or  an  attitude  towards  life.  From  a Christian  point  of  view  one  can  never  be 
too  humble.  Though  of  course  there  is  ‘the  pride  that  apes  humility’  and  the 
condition  of  mind  of  Uriah  Heep  (Ed.). 


VIRTUES  95 

not  always  accompanied  by  a corresponding  change  in  the  name 
of  the  psychological  quality  in  question. 

It  is  clear,  then,  that  even  if  we  did  not  find  in  our  psychical 
experience  the  three  fundamental  moral  feelings  of  shame,  pity, 
and  reverence,  it  would  be  necessary  on  logical  grounds  alone  to 
divide  the  totality  of  moral  relations  into  three  parts,  or  to 
accept  three  fundamental  types  of  virtue,  expressing  man’s  relation 
to  what  is  lower  than  himself,  to  what  is  like  him,  and  to  what  is 
above  him. 


Ill 

If  in  addition  to  the  foundations  of  morality  recognised  by  us 
— shame,  pity,  and  reverence  for  the  higher — we  go  over  all 
the  other  qualities  which  have,  in  ancient  and  modern  times,  been 
considered  as  virtues,  not  a single  one  of  them  will  be  found  to 
deserve  that  name  of  itself.  Each  of  these  various  qualities  can 
only  be  regarded  as  a virtue  when  it  accords  with  the  objective 
norms  of  right,  expressed  in  the  three  fundamental  moral  data 
indicated  above.  Thus  abstinence  or  temperance  has  the  dignity 
of  virtue  only  when  it  refers  to  shameful  states  or  actions.  Virtue 
does  not  require  that  we  should  be  abstinent  or  temperate  in 
general  or  in  everything,  but  only  that  we  should  abstain  from 
that  which  is  below  our  human  dignity,  and  from  the  things  in 
which  it  would  be  a shame  to  indulge  ourselves  unchecked. 
But  if  a person  is  moderate  in  seeking  after  truth,  or  abstains 
from  goodwill  to  his  neighbours,  no  one  would  consider  or 
call  him  virtuous  on  that  account  ; he  would,  on  the  contrary, 
be  condemned  as  lacking  in  generous  impulses.  It  follows  from 
this  that  temperance  is  not  in  itself  or  essentially  a virtue, 
but  becomes  or  does  not  become  one  according  to  its  right  or 
wrong  application  to  objects.  In  the  same  way,  courage  or 
fortitude  is  only  a virtue  in  so  far  as  it  expresses  the  right 
relation  of  the  rational  human  being  to  his  lower  material 
nature,  the  relation,  namely,  of  mastery  and  power,  the 
supremacy  of  the  spirit  over  the  animal  instinct  of  self- 
preservation.1  Praiseworthy  courage  is  shown  by  the  man  who 
does  not  tremble  at  accidental  misfortunes,  who  keeps  his  self- 

1 Concerning  this  virtue,  see  above,  Chap.  I.  p.  36. 


96  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


control  in  the  midst  of  external  dangers,  and  bravely  risks  his  life 
and  material  goods  for  the  sake  of  things  that  are  higher  and 
more  worthy.  But  the  bravest  unruliness,  the  most  daring 
aggressiveness,  and  the  most  fearless  blaspheming  are  not  praised 
as  virtues  ; nor  is  the  horror  of  sin  or  the  fear  of  God  reckoned 
as  shameful  cowardice.  In  this  case  then,  again,  the  quality  of 
being  virtuous  or  vicious  depends  upon  a certain  relation  to  the 
object  and  not  on  the  psychological  nature  of  the  emotional  and 
volitional  states. 

The  third  of  the  so-called  cardinal  virtues,1  wisdom , i.e.  the 
knowledge  of  the  best  ways  and  means  for  attaining  the  purpose 
before  us,  and  the  capacity  to  apply  these  means  aright,  owes  its 
significance  as  a virtue  not  to  this  formal  capacity  for  the  most 
expedient  action  as  such,  but  necessarily  depends  upon  the  moral 
worth  of  the  purpose  itself.  Wisdom  as  a virtue  is  the  faculty  of 
attaining  the  best  purposes  in  the  best  possible  way,  or  the  know- 
ledge of  applying  in  the  most  expedient  way  one’s  intellectual 
forces  to  objects  of  the  greatest  worth.  There  may  be  wisdom 
apart  from  this  condition,  but  such  wisdom  would  not  be  a virtue. 
The  Biblical  ‘serpent’  had  certainly  justified  its  reputation  as  the 
wisest  of  earthly  creatures  by  the  understanding  he  showed  of 
human  nature,  and  the  skill  with  which  he  used  this  understand- 
ing for  the  attainment  of  his  purpose.  Since  however  the  purpose 
was  an  evil  one,  the  serpent’s  admirable  wisdom  was  not  recog- 
nised as  a virtue,  but  was  cursed  as  the  source  of  evil  ; and  the 
wisest  creature  has  remained  the  symbol  of  an  immoral  creeping 
mind,  absorbed  in  what  is  low  and  unworthy.  Even  in  everyday 
life  we  do  not  recognise  as  virtue  that  worldly  wisdom  which 
goes  no  further  than  understanding  human  weaknesses  and  arrang- 
ing its  own  affairs  in  accordance  with  selfish  ends. 

The  conception  of  justice  (the  fourth  cardinal  virtue)  has  four 
different  meanings.  In  the  widest  sense  ‘just’  is  synonymous 
with  due,  correct,  normal,  or  generally  right — not  only  in  the 
moral  sphere  (with  regard  to  will  and  action)  but  also  in  the  in- 
tellectual (with  regard  to  knowledge  and  thinking)  ; for  instance, 

1 From  the  early  days  of  the  scholastics  the  name  of  cardinal  or  philosophic  virtues 
(in  contradistinction  to  the  three  theological  virtues  of  faith,  hope,  and  charity)  has  been 
reserved  to  the  four  virtues  which  Plato  defined  in  the  Republic,  namely,  temperance, 
courage,  wisdom,  and  justice.  I take  the  names  of  these  four  virtues  in  their  general 
sense,  independently  of  the  meaning  they  may  bear  in  Plato’s  philosophy. 


VIRTUES 


97 


‘ you  reason  justly  ’ or  c cette  solution  (d'un  probleme  mathtmatique  ou 
mitaphysique ) est  juste'  Taken  in  this  sense  the  conception  of 
justice,  approaching  that  of  truth,  is  wider  than  the  conception  of 
virtue  and  belongs  to  the  theoretical  rather  than  to  the  moral 
philosophy.  In  the  second,  more  definite  sense,  justice  ( aequitas ) 
corresponds  to  the  fundamental  principle  of  altruism,  which 
requires  that  we  should  recognise  everybody’s  equal  right  to  life 
and  well-being  which  each  recognises  for  himself.  In  this 
sense  justice  is  not  special  virtue,  but  merely  a logical  objective 
expression  of  the  moral  principle,  which  finds  its  subjective 
psychological  expression  in  the  fundamental  feeling  of  pity  (com- 
passion or  sympathy).  The  idea  of  justice  is  used  in  the  third 
sense  when  a distinction  is  made  between  degrees  of  altruism  (or 
of  moral  relation  to  our  fellow-creatures)  and  when  the  first, 
negative  stage  (‘not  to  injure  anyone’)  is  described  as  justice 
proper  ( justitia\  while  the  second,  positive  stage  (c  to  help  every 
one  ’)  is  designated  as  charity  ( caritas , charite).  As  already 
pointed  out  (in  Chapter  III.)  this  distinction  is  purely  relative, 
and  is  certainly  insufficient  for  making  justice  into  a special 
virtue.  No  one  would  call  just  a man  who  decidedly  refused  to 
help  any  one  or  to  alleviate  anybody’s  suffering,  even  though  he 
did  not  injure  his  neighbours  by  direct  acts  of  violence.  The 
moral  motive  both  for  abstaining  from  inflicting  injury  and  for 
rendering  help,  is  one  and  the  same — namely,  a recognition  of 
the  right  of  others  to  live  and  to  enjoy  life.  No  moral  motive 
could  be  found  to  make  any  one  halt  half-way  and  be  content  with 
the  negative  side  of  the  moral  demand.  It  is  clear,  then,  that 
such  pause  or  such  limitation  cannot  possibly  correspond  to  any 
special  virtue,  and  merely  expresses  a lesser  degree  of  the  general 
altruistic  virtue — the  sympathetic  feeling.  And  there  is  no 
universally  binding  or  constant  measure  for  the  lesser  and  the 
greater,  so  that  each  case  must  be  judged  upon  its  own  merits. 
When  moral  consciousness  in  the  community  reaches  a certain 
level  of  development,  the  refusal  to  help  even  a stranger  or  an 
enemy  is  condemned  by  the  conscience  as  a direct  wrong. 
This  is  perfectly  logical,  for  if,  speaking  generally,  I ought  to  help 
my  neighbour,  I wrong  him  by  not  helping  him.  Even  on  the 
lower  stages  of  moral  consciousness  a refusal  to  help  is,  within 
certain  limits,  regarded  as  a wrong  and  a crime — for  instance 


98  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

within  the  limits  of  the  family,  the  tribe,  the  army.  Among 
barbarous  people  everything  is  permissible  so  far  as  enemies  are 
concerned,  so  that  the  idea  of  wrong  does  not  even  apply  with 
respect  to  them  ; but  a peaceful  traveller  or  guest  has  a right  to 
the  most  active  help  and  generous  gifts.  If,  however,  justice 
demands  charity  and  mercy  (among  the  barbarians  in  relation  to 
some  men  only,  and  with  the  progress  of  morality,  in  relation  to 
all)  it  clearly  cannot  be  a virtue  by  itself,  distinct  from  charity. 
It  is  simply  an  expression  of  the  general  moral  principle  of 
altruism  which  has  different  degrees  and  forms  of  application,  but 
always  contains  an  idea  of  justice. 

Finally,  there  is  a fourth  sense  in  which  the  term  may  be  used. 
On  the  supposition  that  the  objective  expression  of  what  is  right  is 
to  be  found  in  laws  (the  laws  of  the  state  or  of  the  Church),  it 
may  be  maintained  that  an  unswerving  obedience  to  laws  is  an 
absolute  moral  duty,  and  that  a corresponding  disposition  to  be 
strictly  law-abiding  is  a virtue  identical  with  that  of  justice. 
This  view  is  only  valid  within  the  limits  of  the  supposition  on 
which  it  is  based — that  is,  it  is  wholly  applicable  to  laws  that 
proceed  from  the  Divine  perfection,  and  therefore  express  the 
supreme  truth,  but  is  applicable  to  other  laws  only  on  condition 
that  they  agree  with  that  truth  ; for  one  ought  to  obey  God  more 
than  men.  Justice  in  this  sense,  then — that  is,  the  striving  to  be 
law-abiding — is  not  in  itself  a virtue  ; it  may  or  may  not  be  that, 
according  to  the  nature  and  the  origin  of  the  laws  that  claim 
obedience.  For  the  source  of  human  laws  is  a turbid  source. 
The  limpid  stream  of  moral  truth  is  hardly  visible  in  it  under  the 
layer  of  other,  purely  historical  elements,  which  express  merely  the 
actual  correlation  of  forces  and  interests  at  this  or  that  moment  of 
time.  Consequently  justice  as  a virtue  by  no  means  always  coin- 
cides with  legality  or  judicial  right,  and  is  sometimes  directly 
opposed  to  it,  as  the  jurists  themselves  admit : summum  jus — 
summa  injuria.  But  while  fully  admitting  the  difference  and  the 
possible  conflict  between  the  inner  truth  and  the  law,  many 
people  think  that  such  conflicts  should  always  be  settled  in  favour 
of  legality.  They  maintain,  that  is,  that  justice  requires  us  in  all 
cases  to  obey  the  law,  even  if  the  law  be  unjust.  In  support  of 
their  view  they  quote  the  authority  and  the  example  of  a righteous 
man  of  antiquity,  Socrates,  who  thought  it  wrong  to  run  away 


VIRTUES 


99 


from  the  lawful,  though  unjust,  sentence  of  the  Athenian  judges 
against  him.  But  in  truth  this  famous  example  teaches  something 
very  different. 

So  far  as  we  know  from  Xenophon  and  Plato,  Socrates  was 
led  to  his  decision  by  two  different  motives.  In  the  first  place,  he 
thought  that  to  save  by  flight  the  small  remainder  of  life  to  which 
he,  an  old  man  of  seventy,  could  look  forward,  would  be  shameful 
and  cowardly,  especially  for  him,  who  believed  in  the  immortality 
of  the  soul,  and  taught  that  true  wisdom  was  continual  dying  (to 
the  material  world).  Secondly,  Socrates  thought  that  a citizen 
ought  to  sacrifice  his  personal  welfare  to  the  laws  of  his  country,  even 
if  they  were  unjust,  for  the  sake  of  filial  piety.  Socrates,  then,  was 
guided  by  the  moral  motives  of  asceticism  and  piety,  and  certainly 
not  by  the  conception  of  the  absolute  value  of  legality,  which  he 
never  admitted.  Besides,  in  the  case  of  Socrates,  there  was  no 
conflict  between  two  duties,  but  only  a conflict  between  a 
personal  right  and  a civic  duty , and  it  may  be  accepted  as  a matter 
of  general  principle  that  right  must  give  way  to  duty.  No  one 
is  bound  to  defend  his  own  material  life  : it  is  merely  his  right, 
which  it  is  always  permissible,  and  sometimes  laudable,  to  sacrifice. 
It  is  a different  matter  when  the  civic  duty  of  obedience  to  laws 
conflicts  not  with  a personal  right,  but  with  a moral  duty,  as  in 
the  famous  classical  case  of  Antigone.  She  had  to  choose  between 
the  moral  and  religious  duty  of  giving  honourable  burial  to  her 
brother,  and  the  civic  duty  of  obeying  the  prohibition  to  do  so — a 
prohibition  impious  and  inhuman,  though  legally  just,  for  it  pro- 
ceeded from  the  lawful  ruler  of  her  native  town.  Here  comes 
into  force  the  rule  that  one  ought  to  obey  God  more  than  men, 
and  it  is  made  abundantly  clear  that  justice  in  the  sense  of  legality, 
or  of  external  conformity  of  actions  to  established  laws,  is  not  in 
itself  a virtue,  but  may  or  may  not  be  such  according  to  circum- 
stances. Therefore  the  heroism  of  Socrates,  who  submitted  to  an 
unjust  law,  and  the  heroism  of  Antigone,  who  violated  such  a law, 
are  equally  laudable — and  not  only  because  in  both  cases  there  was 
sacrifice  of  life,  but  from  the  nature  of  the  case.  Socrates  re- 
nounced his  own  material  right  for  the  sake  of  the  higher  ideas  of 
human  dignity  and  patriotic  duty.  Antigone  defended  the  right 
of  another , and  thereby  fulfilled  her  duty — for  the  burial  of  her 
brother  was  his  right  and  her  duty,  while  it  was  in  no  sense 


100  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

Socrates’  duty  to  escape  from  prison.  Speaking  generally,  pietas 
erga  patriam , like  pietas  erga  parentes , can  only  compel  us  to 
sacrifice  our  own  right,  but  certainly  not  the  right  of  others. 
Suppose,  for  instance,  that  filial  piety  developed  to  the  point  of 
heroism  induced  a man  not  to  resist  his  father  who  intends  to  kill 
him.  The  moral  worth  of  such  heroism  may  be  disputed,  but  it 
would  certainly  never  even  occur  to  any  one  to  justify  or  to  call 
heroic  that  same  man  if,  out  of  obedience  to  his  father,  he  thought 
it  his  duty  to  kill  his  own  brother  or  sister.  The  same  is  appli- 
cable to  unjust  and  inhuman  laws,  and  from  this  it  follows  that 
justice,  in  the  sense  of  obedience  to  laws  as  such,  according  to  the 
rule  '■fiat  justitia , pereat  mundus  ’ is  not  in  itself  a virtue. 

IV 

The  three  so-called  theological  virtues  recognised  in  the 
patristic  and  the  scholastic  ethics — faith,  hope,  and  charity  1 — also 
have  no  unconditional  moral  worth  in  themselves,  but  are 
dependent  upon  other  circumstances.  Even  for  theologians,  not 
every  kind  of  faith  is  a virtue.  The  character  of  virtue  does  not 
attach  to  faith  which  has  for  its  object  something  non-existent,  or 
unworthy,  or  which  unworthily  regards  that  which  is  worthy. 
Thus,  in  the  first  case,  if  a person  firmly  believes  in  the  philo- 
sopher’s stone,  i.e.  a powder,  liquid,  or  gas  which  transforms  all  metals 
to  gold,  such  faith  in  an  object  which  does  not  exist  in  the  nature 
of  things,  is  not  regarded  as  a virtue,  but  as  self-deceit.  In  the 
second  case,  if  a person  not  merely  admits — and  rightly  so — the 
existence  of  the  power  of  evil  as  a fact,  but  makes  that  power  an 
object  of  faith  in  the  sense  of  confidence  in  and  devotion  to  it, 
forms  a compact  with  it,  sells  his  soul  to  the  devil,  and  so  on, 
such  faith  is  justly  regarded  as  a terrible  moral  fall,  for  its  object, 
though  actual,  is  evil  and  unworthy.  Finally,  in  the  third 
case,  the  faith  of  the  devils  themselves,  of  whom  the  apostle  writes 
that  they  believe  (in  God)  and  tremble,2  is  not  recognised  as  a 
virtue,  for  although  it  refers  to  an  object  that  exists,  and  is  of 
absolute  worth,  it  regards  that  object  in  an  unworthy  way  (with 
horror  instead  of  joy,  with  repulsion  instead  of  attraction).  Only 

1 According  to  the  well-known  text  of  St.  Paul,  in  which,  however,  the  term 
‘ virtue  ’ is  not  used.  2 St.  James  ii.  13. 


VIRTUES 


ioi 


that  faith  in  the  higher  being  may  be  regarded  as  a virtue,  which 
regards  it  in  a worthy  manner , namely,  with  free  filial  piety.  And 
such  faith  entirely  coincides  with  the  religious  feeling  which  we 
found  to  be  one  of  the  three  ultimate  foundations  of  morality. 

The  second  theological  virtue — hope — comes  really  to  the  same 
thing.  There  can  be  no  question  of  virtue  when  some  one  trusts 
in  his  own  strength  or  wisdom,  or  indeed  in  God,  if  in  the  sole 
expectation  of  material  gain  from  Him.  That  hope  alone  is  a 
virtue  which  looks  to  God  as  the  source  of  true  blessings  to  come  ; 
and  this  is,  again,  the  same  fundamental  religious  relation,  to  which 
is  added  an  idea  of  the  future  and  a feeling  of  expectation. 

Finally,  the  moral  significance  of  the  third  and  greatest  theo- 
logical virtue — love — entirely  depends  upon  the  given  objective 
determinations.  Love  in  itself,  or  love  in  general,  is  not  a virtue — 
if  it  were,  all  beings  would  alike  be  virtuous,  for  they  all  without 
exception  love  something  and  live  by  their  love.  But  selfish  love 
for  oneself  and  one’s  property,  passionate  love  of  drink  or  of 
horse-racing,  is  not  reckoned  as  a virtue. 

‘ II  faut  en  ce  has  monde  aimer  beaucoup  de  chases ,’  teaches  a neo- 
pagan poet.  Such  ‘love’  had  been  expressly  rejected  by  the 
apostle  of  love  : 

'■Love  not  the  world, , neither  the  things  that  are  in  the  world?  1 

This  is  the  first,  negative  part  of  the  commandment  of  love, 
and  it  should  not  be  overlooked  as  it  usually  is.  It  is  simply  the 
expression  of  the  fundamental  principle  of  asceticism  : to  guard 
ourselves  from  the  lower  nature  and  to  struggle  against  its 
dominion.  For  it  is  clear  from  the  context  that  by  ‘the  world’ 
which  we  must  not  love,  the  apostle  means  neither  mankind  as  a 
whole,  nor  the  totality  of  the  creation  which  proclaims  the  glory 
of  God,  but  precisely  the  dark  and  irrational  basis  of  the  material 
nature  which  ceases  to  be  passive  and  potential,  as  it  ought  to  be, 
and  unlawfully  invades  the  domain  of  the  human  spirit.  Further 
on  it  is  directly  said  that  in  the  world  there  is  the  lust  of  the  fleshy  i.e. 
the  desire  of  immoderate  sensuality,  the  lust  of  the  eyes , i.e.  greed 
or  love  of  money,  and  the  pride  of  life , i.e.  vainglory  and  ambition. 

Biblical  ethics  adds  to  the  negative  ‘ love  not  the  world  ’ two 
positive  commands  : love  God  with  all  thy  hearty  and  love  thy 
neighbour  as  thyself.  These  two  kinds  of  love  are  rightly  dis- 

1 i John  ii.  15. 


ioa  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

tinguished,  for  the  particular  nature  of  the  object  necessarily  con- 
ditions the  particular  moral  relation  to  be  adopted  towards  them. 
Love  to  our  neighbours  has  its  source  in  pity,  and  love  towards 
God  in  reverence.  To  love  one’s  neighbour  as  oneself  really 
means  to  feel  for  him  as  one  does  for  oneself.  Whole-hearted 
love  of  God  means  entire  devotion  to  Him,  full  surrender  of  one’s 
own  will  to  His — i.e.  the  perfection  of  the  filial  or  the  religious 
feeling  and  relation. 

Thus  the  commandment  of  love  is  not  connected  with  any 
particular  virtue,  but  is  the  culmination  of  all  the  fundamental 
demands  of  morality  in  the  three  necessary  respects:  in  relation  to 
the  lower,  to  the  higher,  and  to  that  which  is  on  a level  with  us. 

V 

I have  shown  that  the  four  c cardinal  ’ as  well  as  the  three 
c theological  ’ virtues  can  be  reduced,  in  one  way  or  another,  to  the 
three  ultimate  foundations  of  morality,  indicated  above.  It  can 
now  be  left  to  the  goodwill  and  the  intelligence  of  the  reader  to 
continue  the  analysis  of  the  other  so-called  virtues.  There  exists 
no  generally  recognised  list  of  them,  and,  by  means  of  scholastic 
distinctions,  their  number  can  be  increased  indefinitely.  But  for 
the  sake  of  completing  what  has  gone  before,  I should  like  to  say 
a few  words  about  five  virtues  which  present  a certain  interest 
in  one  respect  or  another,  namely,  concerning  magnanimity , 
disinterestedness , generosity , patience , and  truthfulness. 

We  call  magnanimous  a man  who  is  ashamed,  or  finds  it 
beneath  his  dignity , to  insist  on  his  material  rights  to  the  detriment 
of  other  people,  or  to  bind  his  will  by  lower  worldly  interests 
(such  as  vanity),  which  he  therefore  readily  sacrifices  for  the  sake 
of  higher  considerations.  We  also  call  magnanimous  the  man 
who  is  undisturbed  by  adversities  and  changes  of  fortune,  because, 
again,  he  is  ashamed  of  allowing  his  peace  of  mind  to  be  dependent 
upon  material  and  accidental  things.  The  words  italicised  are 
sufficient  to  indicate  that  this  virtue  is  simply  a special  expression 
or  form  of  the  first  root  of  morality — viz.  of  the  self-assertion  of  the 
human  spirit  against  the  lower,  material  side  of  our  being.  The 
essential  thing  here  is  the  feeling  of  human  dignity,  which,  in  the 
first  instance,  manifests  itself  in  the  feeling  of  shame. 


VIRTUES 


103 


Disinterestedness  is  the  freedom  of  the  spirit  from  attachment 
to  a certain  kind  of  material  goods,  namely,  to  possessions.  It  is 
clearly  a particular  expression  of  that  same  feeling  of  human 
dignity.  In  a corresponding  manner,  vices  opposed  to  this  viitue 
— miserliness  and  cupidity — are  felt  to  be  shameful. 

Generosity  in  its  external  manifestations  coincides  with 
magnanimity  and  disinterestedness,  but  it  has  a different  inner 
basis,  namely,  an  altruistic  one.  A virtuously  generous  man 
is  one  who  shares  his  property  with  others  out  of  justice  or  bene- 
volence (for  in  so  far  as  he  does  it  out  of  vanity  or  pride,  he  is  not 
virtuous).  But  at  the  same  time  such  a man  may  be  attached 
to  the  property  he  gives  away  to  the  degree  of  miserliness,  and  in 
that  case  he  cannot,  in  strictness,  be  called  disinterested.  It  must 
only  be  said  that  the  altruistic  virtue  of  generosity  overcomes  in 
him  the  vice  of  cupidity. 

Patience  (as  a virtue)  is  only  the  passive  aspect  of  that  quality 
of  the  soul  which,  in  its  active  manifestation,  is  called  magna- 
nimity or  spiritual  fortitude.  The  difference  is  almost  entirely 
subjective,  and  no  hard  and  fast  line  can  be  drawn  between  the 
two.  A man  who  calmly  endures  torment  or  misfortune  will 
be  called  magnanimous  by  some,  patient  by  others,  courageous 
by  the  third,  while  the  fourth  will  see  in  him  an  example  of 
a special  virtue — serenity  (drapa^ta)  and  so  on.  The  discussion 
of  the  comparative  appropriateness  of  these  definitions  can  have 
only  a linguistic  and  not  an  ethical  interest.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  identity  of  the  external  expression  may  (as  in  the  case 
of  generosity)  conceal  important  differences  in  the  moral  content. 
A man  may  patiently  endure  physical  or  mental  suffering  owing 
to  a low  degree  of  nervous  sensitiveness,  dullness  of  mind  and 
an  apathetic  temperament,  and  in  that  case  patience  is  not  a 
virtue  at  all.  Or  patience  may  be  due  to  the  inner  force  of  the 
spirit,  which  does  not  give  way  to  external  influences — and  then  it 
is  an  ascetic  virtue  (reducible  to  our  first  basis  of  morality)  ; 
or  it  may  arise  from  meekness  and  love  of  one’s  neighbours 
( caritas),  which  does  not  wish  to  pay  back  evil  for  evil  and 
injury  for  injury — and  in  that  case  it  is  an  altruistic  virtue  (re- 
ducible to  the  second  principle — pity,  which  here  extends  even 
to  enemies  who  inflict  the  injury).  Finally,  patience  may 
spring  from  obedience  to  the  higher  will  upon  which  all  that 


104  THE  justification  of  the  good 


happens  depends — and  then  it  is  a religious  virtue  (reducible  to 
the  third  principle). 

A particuliar  variety  of  patience  is  the  quality  which  is 
designated  in  the  Russian  language  by  the  grammatically  incorrect 
term  ‘ terpimost  ’ — tolerance  ( passlvum  pro  activo).  It  means  the 
admission  of  other  people’s  freedom  even  when  it  seems  to  lead 
to  error.  This  attitude  is  in  itself  neither  a vice  nor  a virtue, 
but  may,  in  different  circumstances,  become  either.  It  depends 
on  the  object  to  which  it  refers  (thus  injury  of  the  weak  by  the 
strong  must  not  be  tolerated,  and  ‘tolerance’  of  it  is  immoral 
and  not  virtuous),  and  still  more,  on  the  inner  motives  from 
which  it  arises.  It  may  spring  from  magnanimity  or  from 
cowardice,  from  respect  for  the  rights  of  others  and  from  contempt 
of  the  good  of  others,  from  profound  faith  in  the  conquering 
power  of  the  higher  truth  and  from  indifference  to  that  truth.1 

VI 

Among  the  derivative  or  secondary  virtues  truthfulness  must  be 
recognised  as  the  most  important,  both  owing  to  its  specifically 
human  character  (for  in  the  strict  sense  it  is  only  possible  for  a 
being  endowed  with  the  power  of  speech2)  and  to  its  significance 
for  social  morality.  At  the  same  time  this  virtue  has  been  and 
still  is  the  subject  of  much  disagreement  between  different  schools 
of  moralists. 

The  word  is  the  instrument  of  reason  for  expressing  that 
which  is,  that  which  may  be,  and  that  which  ought  to  be,  i.e. 
for  expressing  the  actual,  the  formal,  and  the  ideal  truth.  The 
possession  of  such  an  instrument  is  part  of  the  higher  nature  of 
man,  and  therefore  when  he  misuses  it,  giving  expression  to  un- 
truth for  the  sake  of  lower  material  ends,  he  does  something 
contrary  to  human  dignity,  something  shameful.  At  the  same 
time  the  word  is  the  expression  of  human  solidarity,  the  most 
important  means  of  communication  between  men.  But  this 
applies  only  to  true  words.  Therefore  when  an  individual  person 
uses  speech  to  express  untruth  for  his  own  selfish  ends  (not  only 

1 A more  detailed  discussion  of  it  will  be  found  at  the  beginning  of  my  article 
Spor  o sprats  edlivosti  ( The  Dispute  about  Justice'). 

2 Animals  may  be  naive  or  cunning,  but  only  man  can  be  truthful  or  deceitful. 


VIRTUES 


105 


individually  selfish,  but  collectively  selfish  also,  e.g.  in  the  interests 
of  his  family,  his  class,  his  party,  etc.)  he  violates  the  rights  of 
others  and  injures  the  community.  A lie  is  thus  both  shameful 
for  the  liar,  and  damaging  and  insulting  to  the  deceived.  The 
demand  for  truthfulness  has  then  a twofold  moral  foundation. 
It  is  based,  first,  on  the  human  dignity  of  the  subject  himself, 
and  secondly  upon  justice , i.e.  upon  a recognition  of  the  right  of 
others  not  to  be  deceived  by  me,  in  as  much  as  I myself  cannot 
wish  to  be  deceived  by  them. 

All  this  is  in  direct  conformity  with  the  demands  of  reason 
and  contains  nothing  dubious.  But  by  abstracting  the  demand  for 
truthfulness  from  its  moral  basis,  and  turning  it  into  a special 
virtue  possessed  of  absolute  worth  in  itself  the  scholastic  philo- 
sophy has  created  difficulties  and  contradictions  which  do  not 
follow  from  the  nature  of  the  case.  If  by  a lie  is  meant  the 
contrary  of  truth  in  the  full  sense  of  the  word,  i.e.  not  only  of  the 
real  and  formal,  but  also  and  chiefly  of  the  ideal  or  purely  moral 
truth  (of  that  which  ought  to  be),  it  would  be  perfectly  correct 
and  indisputable  to  ascribe  absolute  significance  to  the  rule  ‘do 
not  lie,’  and  to  admit  of  no  exception  to  it  under  any  circum- 
stances ; for,  clearly,  truth  ceases  to  be  truth  if  there  may  be  a 
single  case  in  which  it  is  permissible  to  depart  from  it.  There 
could  be  no  question  of  it,  at  any  rate  not  between  people  who 
understand  that  A = A and  that  2x2  = 4.  But  the  trouble  is 
that  the  philosophers  who  particularly  insist  on  the  rule  ‘ do  not 
lie,’  as  allowing  of  no  exception,  are  themselves  guilty  of  a falsity 
by  arbitrarily  limiting  the  meaning  of  truth  (in  each  given  case) 
to  the  real,  or  more  exactly,  to  the  matter  of  fact  aspect  of  it,  taken 
separately.  Adopting  this  point  of  view,  they  come  to  the  following 
absurd  dilemma  (I  give  the  usual  instance  as  the  clearest  and 
simplest).  When  a person,  having  no  other  means  at  his  com- 
mand for  frustrating  a would-be  murderer  in  pursuit  of  his 
innocent  victim,  hides  the  latter  in  his  house,  and  to  the  pursuer’s 
question  whether  that  person  is  there,  answers  in  the  negative, 
or,  for  greater  plausibility,  ‘puts  him  off  the  track’  by  mention- 
ing quite  a different  place, — in  lying  thus  he  acts  either  in  con- 
formity with  the  moral  law  or  in  opposition  to  it.  If  the  first,  it 
is  permissible  to  violate  the  moral  command  ‘ do  not  lie  ’ ; morality 
is  thus  deprived  of  its  absolute  value,  and  the  way  is  open  to  justify 


io6  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

every  kind  of  evil.  If  the  second — if  the  man  has  sinned  by 
telling  a lie — it  appears  that  the  moral  duty  of  truthfulness  actu- 
ally compelled  him  to  become  a real  accomplice  of  the  murderer 
in  his  crime — which  is  equally  opposed  to  reason  and  to  the  moral 
sense.  There  can  be  no  middle  course,  for  it  is  obvious  that  a 
refusal  to  answer  or  an  evasive  answer  would  simply  confirm  the 
pursuer’s  suspicion  and  would  finally  give  away  the  victim. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  great  moralists  like  Kant  and 
Fichte,  who  insist  on  the  absolute  and  formal  character  of  the  moral 
law,  maintain  that  even  in  such  circumstances  a lie  would  be 
unjustifiable,  and  that,  therefore,  the  person  questioned  ought  to 
fulfil  the  duty  of  truthfulness  without  thinking  of  the  con- 
sequences, for  which  (it  is  urged)  he  is  not  responsible.  Other 
moralists,  who  reduce  all  morality  to  the  feeling  of  pity  or  the 
principle  of  altruism,  believe  that  lying  is  permissible  and  even 
obligatory  when  it  can  save  the  life  or  promote  the  welfare  of 
others.  This  assertion,  however,  is  too  wide  and  indefinite  and 
easily  leads  to  all  kinds  of  abuse. 

How  then  are  we  to  decide  the  question  whether  that  un- 
fortunate man  ought  to  have  told  a lie  or  not  ? When  both 
horns  of  a dilemma  equally  lead  to  an  absurdity,  there  must  be 
something  wrong  in  the  formulation  of  the  dilemma  itself. 
In  the  present  case  the  ‘something  wrong’  is  to  be  found  in  the 
ambiguity  of  the  words  ‘lie,’  ‘false,’  and  ‘lying,’  which  are 
here  taken  to  have  one  meaning  only,  or  to  combine  both  meanings 
in  one,  which  is  not  really  the  case.  Thus  the  main  term  is 
falsely  understood  at  the  very  beginning  of  the  argument,  and  this 
can  lead  to  nothing  but  false  conclusions. 

I propose  to  consider  it  in  detail,  and  let  not  the  reader  grudge 
a certain  pedanticism  of  this  examination.  The  question  itself 
has  arisen  solely  owing  to  the  scholastic  pedantry  of  the  abstract 
moralists. 

According  to  the  formal  definition  of  it  a lie  is  a contradiction 
between  somebody’s  assertion  1 concerning  a given  fact  and  the 
actual  existence,  or  manner  of  existence,  of  that  fact.  But  this 
formal  conception  of  a lie  has  no  direct  bearing  on  morality.  An 

1 The  general  definition  must  include  both  affirmations  and  denials,  and  I therefore 
use  the  term  assertion  to  cover  both.  The  words  ‘judgment  ’ and  ‘ proposition  ’ involve 
a shade  of  meaning  unsuitable  in  the  present  case. 


VIRTUES 


107 


assertion  that  contradicts  reality  may  sometimes  be  simply  mistaken , 
and  in  that  case  its  actual  falsity  will  be  limited  to  the  objective 
(or  more  exactly,  to  the  phenomenal)  sphere,  without  in  the 
least  touching  upon  the  moral  aspect  of  the  subject ; that  is,  it 
will  contain  no  lie  in  the  moral  sense  at  all : a mistake  is  not  a 
falsehood.  Take  an  extreme  case.  It  is  no  sin  against  truthful- 
ness to  talk  nonsense  through  absent-mindedness,  or  through 
ignorance  of  language,  like  the  German  in  the  well-known 
anecdote  who  mixed  up  English  and  German  words  and  affirmed 
that  he  ‘ became  a cup  of  tea.’  But  apart  from  mistakes  of  speech, 
the  same  thing  must  be  said  of  the  mistakes  of  thought  or  errors. 
Many  people  have  affirmed,  and  are  still  affirming,  both  in  speech 
and  in  writing,  things  as  false  (in  the  objective  sense)  as  the 
assertion  that  a man  became  a cup  of  tea,  but  do  so  consciously, 
intending  to  say  precisely  what  they  do  say.  If,  however,  they 
sincerely  take  falsity  for  truth,  no  one  will  call  them  liars  or  see 
anything  immoral  in  their  error.  Thus  neither  the  contradiction 
between  speech  and  reality,  nor  the  contradiction  between 
thought  and  reality  is  a lie  in  the  moral  sense.  Is  it  to  be 
found  in  the  contradiction  between  the  will  and  reality  as 
such,  i.e.  in  the  simple  intention  to  lie  ? But  there  never 
is  such  simple  intention.  People  — at  any  rate  those  who 

can  be  held  morally  responsible — lie  for  the  sake  of  something, 
with  some  object.  Some  lie  to  satisfy  their  vanity,  to  make  a 
show,  to  draw  attention  to  themselves,  to  be  noted  ; others  for 
the  sake  of  material  gain,  in  order  to  deceive  some  one  with  profit 
to  themselves.  Both  these  kinds  of  lie,  of  which  the  first  is  called 
bragging,  and  the  second  cheating,  fall  within  the  moral  sphere, 
and  are  to  be  condemned  as  shameful  to  the  person  who  tells 
them,  and  as  insulting  and  injurious  to  others.  But  in  addition 
to  the  vainglorious  lie  or  bragging,  and  the  lie  for  the  sake  of  gain 
or  cheating,  there  exists  a more  subtle  kind  of  lie,  which  has  no 
immediately  low  purpose,  but  must  nevertheless  be  condemned  as 
insulting  to  one’s  neighbours.  I mean  the  lie  out  of  contempt 
for  humanity,  beginning  with  the  usual  ‘ I am  not  at  home  ’ and 
down  to  the  most  complex  political,  religious,  and  literary 
humbug.  There  is  nothing  shameful  in  the  narrow  sense  of  the 
word  in  this  kind  of  lie  (unless  of  course  it  is  made  for  purposes 
of  gain),  but  it  is  immoral  from  the  altruistic  point  of  view,  as 


108  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

violating  the  rights  of  the  deceived.  The  person  who  hoaxes 
others  would  obviously  dislike  to  be  deceived  himself,  and  would 
regard  an  attempt  to  hoax  him  as  a violation  of  his  human  rights. 
Consequently  he  ought  to  respect  the  same  right  in  other  people. 

The  case  of  a man  who  deceives  the  evil-doer  for  the  sake  of 
preventing  murder  obviously  does  not  fall  within  the  first  two 
kinds  of  immoral  lie,  i.e.  it  is  neither  bragging  nor  cheating; 
could  it  possibly  be  classed  with  the  last  kind,  that  is,  with 
hoaxing,  which  is  immoral  in  the  sense  of  being  insulting  to 
another  person  ? Is  it  not  a case  of  despising  humanity  in  the 
person  of  the  would-be  murderer,  who  is,  after  all,  a human 
being,  and  must  not  be  deprived  of  any  of  his  human  rights  ? 
But  the  right  of  the  criminal  to  have  me  for  his  accomplice  in 
the  perpetration  of  the  murder  can  certainly  not  be  reckoned 
among  his  human  rights  ; and  it  is  precisely  the  demand  for  an 
accomplice  and  it  alone  that  is  contained  in  his  question  as  to  the 
whereabouts  of  his  victim.  Is  it  permissible  for  a moralist  to 
have  recourse  to  what  he  knows  to  be  fiction,  especially  when 
it  is  a question  of  a man’s  life  ? For  it  is  sheer  fiction  to  suppose 
that  in  asking  his  question  the  would-be  murderer  is  thinking 
about  the  truth,  wants  to  know  the  truth,  and  is,  therefore,  like 
any  other  human  being,  entitled  to  have  a correct  answer  from 
those  who  know  it.  In  reality  there  is  nothing  of  the  kind.  The 
man’s  question  does  not  exist  as  a separate  and  independent  fact 
expressing  his  interest  as  to  the  place  where  his  victim  really  is  ; 
the  question  is  only  an  inseparable  moment  in  a whole  series  of 
actions  which,  in  their  totality,  form  an  attempt  at  murder.  An 
affirmative  answer  would  not  be  a fulfilment  of  the  universal  duty 
to  speak  the  truth  at  all ; it  would  simply  be  criminal  connivance 
which  would  convert  the  attempt  into  actual  murder. 

If  we  are  to  talk  of  truthfulness,  truthfulness  demands,  in  the 
first  place,  that  we  should  take  a case  as  it  really  is , in  its  actual 
completeness  and  its  proper  inner  significance.  Now  the  words 
and  actions  of  the  would-be  murderer  in  the  instance  we  are 
considering  are  held  together  by,  and  derive  their  actual  meaning 
solely  from,  his  intention  to  kill  his  victim  ; therefore  it  is  only  in 
connection  with  this  intention  that  one  can  truly  judge  of  his 
words  and  actions,  and  of  the  relation  to  them  on  the  part  of 
another  person.  Since  we  know  the  criminal  intention,  we 


VIRTUES 


109 


have  neither  a theoretical  ground  nor  a moral  right  to  separate  the 
man’s  question  (and  consequently  our  answer  to  it)  from  the 
object  to  which  it  actually  refers.  From  this  point  of  view,  which 
is  the  only  true  one , the  man’s  question  means  nothing  but  { help 
me  to  accomplish  the  murder .’  A correct  answer  to  it,  overlooking 
the  real  meaning  of  the  question,  and,  contrary  to  obvious  fact, 
taking  it  to  have  some  relation  to  truth — would  be  false  from  the 
theoretical  point  of  view,  and  from  the  practical  would  simply 
mean  compliance  with  the  criminal  request.  The  only  possible 
means  of  refusing  that  request  would  be  to  put  the  would-be 
murderer  off  the  track  : such  refusal  is  morally  binding  both  in 
relation  to  the  victim  whose  life  it  saves,  and  in  relation  to 
the  criminal  whom  it  gives  time  to  think  and  to  give  up 
his  criminal  intention.  Still  less  can  there  be  question  here  of 
the  violation  of  the  man’s  right ; it  would  be  too  crude  an  error 
to  confuse  a request  for  criminal  assistance  with  the  right  of 
learning  the  truth  from  the  person  who  knows  it.  It  would  be 
equally  mistaken  to  insist  that  the  man  who,  for  motives  of 
moral  duty,  prevented  the  murder  by  the  only  possible  means, 
had  nevertheless  told  a lie  and  therefore  acted  badly.  This  would 
mean  a confusion  between  the  two  senses  of  the  word  c lie  ’ — - 
the  formal  and  the  moral — the  essential  difference  between  which 
has  been  indicated  above. 

The  upholders  of  the  pseudo-moral  rigorism  may  still  seek 
refuge  on  religious  ground.  Although  no  human  right  is 
violated  by  putting  the  murderer  on  the  false  track,  perhaps  the 
divine  right  is  violated  by  it.  If  there  existed  a commandment 
from  above  c do  not  lie,’  we  should  be  bound  to  obey  it  un- 
conditionally, leaving  the  consequences  to  God.  But  the  fact  is 
that  there  exists  in  the  word  of  God  no  abstract  commandment1 
forbidding  lying  in  general  or  lying  in  the  formal  sense,  while 
the  command  to  sacrifice  our  very  souls — and  not  merely  the 
formal  correctness  of  our  words — for  our  neighbours  undoubtedly 
exists  and  must  be  fulfilled.  It  might  however  be  thought  that 
from  the  mystical  point  of  view  a means  might  be  found  to 
carry  out  the  chief  commandment  with  regard  to  love,  and  yet 

1 The  commandment  ‘ do  not  bear  false  witness  against  thy  neighbour,’  i.e.  do  not 
slander,  has  no  bearing  on  this  question,  for  it  forbids  not  lying  in  general  but  only  one 
definite  kind  of  lie,  which  is  always  immoral. 


no  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

to  avoid  the  formal  lie.  Thus  we  could,  after  surrendering  the 
victim  to  his  murderer,  turn  to  God  with  a prayer  to  prevent 
the  murder  by  some  miracle.  There  certainly  are  cases  on 
record  of  prayers  producing  the  desired  effect  against  all  human 
probability.  This  however  only  happened  in  hopeless  extremity, 
when  there  were  no  natural  means  left.  But  to  require  from 
God  a miracle  when  you  can  yourself,  by  a simple  and  harmless 
means,  prevent  the  disaster,  would  be  extremely  impious.  It 
would  be  a different  matter  if  the  last  human  means  available 
were  immoral ; but  to  fall  back  upon  the  immorality  of  the 
formal  lie  as  such  would  mean  to  beg  precisely  that  which  is  in 
question  and  which  cannot  be  logically  proved,  for  it  is  based  on 
the  confusion  between  two  utterly  distinct  ideas  of  falsity  and 
falsehood.  In  the  instance  we  are  considering,  the  answer  to  the 
murderer’s  question  is  undoubtedly  false,  but  it  is  not  to  be  con- 
demned as  a lie.  The  formal  falsity  of  a person’s  words  has  as 
such  no  relation  to  morality,  and  cannot  be  condemned  from  the 
moral  point  of  view.  Falsehood , on  the  other  hand,  is  subject  to 
such  condemnation  as  the  expression  of  an  intention  which  is  in 
some  way  immoral , and  it  is  in  this  alone  that  it  differs  from 
simple  falsity.  But  in  the  present  case  it  is  impossible  to  find 
any  such  immoral  intention,  and  consequently  any  falsehood. 

Put  briefly,  our  long  argument  may  be  expressed  as  follows. 
An  assertion  which  is  formally  false,  that  is,  which  contradicts 
the  fact  to  which  it  refers,  is  not  always  a lie  in  the  moral  sense. 
It  becomes  such  only  when  it  proceeds  from  the  evil  will  which 
intentionally  misuses  words  for  its  own  ends  ; and  the  evil 
character  of  the  will  consists  not  in  its  contradicting  any  fact 
but  in  its  contradicting  that  which  ought  to  be.  Now  that  which 
ought  to  be  is  of  necessity  determined  in  three  ways — in  relation, 
namely,  to  that  which  is  below  us,  on  a level  with  us,  and  above  us 
— and  amounts  to  three  demands  : to  submit  the  lower  nature  to 
the  spirit,  to  respect  the  rights  of  our  fellow-creatures,  and  to  be 
wholly  devoted  to  the  higher  principle  of  the  world.  An  expres- 
sion of  our  will  can  be  bad  or  immoral  only  if  it  violates  one  of 
these  three  duties,  that  is,  when  the  will  affirms  or  sanctions 
something  shameful,  or  injurious,  or  impious.  But  the  will  of  the 
man  who  puts  the  would-be  murderer  off  his  victim’s  track  does 
not  violate  any  of  the  three  duties — there  is  nothing  either 


VIRTUES 


hi 


shameful  or  injurious  or  impious  about  his  will.  Thus  it  is  not  a 
case  of  a lie  in  the  moral  sense  at  all,  or  of  a breach  of  any  com- 
mandment, and,  in  allowing  such  a means  of  preventing  evil,  we 
do  not  allow  any  exceptions  to  the  moral  law.  For  reasons 
indicated,  the  given  case  cannot  be  said  to  fall  under  the  moral 
rule  within  which  it  is  sought,  in  contradiction  to  fact,  to 
include  it. 

One  of  the  disputants  maintains : since  this  is  a lie,  this 
bad  means  ought  not  to  have  been  used  even  to  save  another 
person’s  life.  The  other  side  answers  : although  it  is  a lie,  it  is 
permissible  to  use  this  bad  means  to  save  the  life  of  another,  for 
the  duty  to  save  another  person’s  life  is  more  important  than  the 
duty  to  speak  the  truth.  Both  these  false  assertions  are  cancelled 
by  the  third,  true  one.  Since  this  is  not  a lie  (in  the  moral  sense), 
the  recourse  to  this  innocent  means,  necessary  for  the  prevention 
of  murder,  is  morally  binding  on  the  person.1 

VII 

To  make  truthfulness  into  a separate  formal  virtue  involves, 
then,  an  inner  contradiction  and  is  contrary  to  reason.  Truth- 
fulness, like  all  other  ‘virtues,’  does  not  contain  its  moral 
quality  in  itself,  but  derives  it  from  its  conformity  to  the 
fundamental  norms  of  morality.  A pseudo-truthfulness  divorced 
from  them  may  be  a source  of  falsehood,  that  is,  of  false  valuations. 
It  may  stop  at  the  request  that  our  words  should  merely  be  an 
exact  reflection  of  the  external  reality  of  isolated  facts,  and  thus 
lead  to  obvious  absurdities.  From  this  point  of  view  a priest  who 
repeated  exactly  what  he  was  told  at  a confession  would  satisfy  the 
demands  of  truthfulness.  Real  truthfulness,  however,  requires 
that  our  words  should  correspond  to  the  inner  truth  or  meaning 
of  a given  situation,  to  which  our  will  applies  the  moral  norms. 

The  analysis  of  the  so-called  virtues  shows  that  they  have 

1 Although  in  this  question  Kant  sides  with  the  rigorists,  in  doing  so  he  is  really 
inconsistent  with  his  own  principle  that  an  action,  to  be  moral,  must  be  capable  of 
being  made  into  a universal  rule.  It  is  clear  that  in  putting  the  would-be  murderer  off 
the  place  where  his  victim  is,  I can,  in  reason  and  conscience,  affirm  my  way  of  action 
as  a universal  rule  : every  one  ought  always  thus  to  conceal  the  victim  from  the  intending 
murderer ; and  if  I put  myself  into  the  latter’s  place,  I should  wish  that  I might,  in  the 
same  way,  be  prevented  from  committing  the  murder. 


1 12  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

moral  significance  only  in  so  far  as  they  are  determined  by  the 
three  norms  of  morality.  And  although  these  norms  are  psycho- 
logically based  upon  the  corresponding  primitive  feelings  of  shame, 
pity,  and  reverence,  they  do  not  entirely  rest  upon  this  empirical 
basis,  but  are  logically  developed  out  of  the  idea  of  right  or  truth 
(in  the  wide  sense).  Truth  demands  that  we  should  regard  our 
lower  nature  as  lower,  that  is,  should  subordinate  it  to  rational  ends  ; 
if,  on  the  contrary,  we  surrender  to  it,  we  recognise  it  not  for 
what  it  really  is,  but  for  something  higher — and  thus  pervert  the 
true  order  of  things,  violate  the  truth,  regard  that  lower  sphere  in 
a wrong  or  immoral  way.  Likewise,  truth  demands  that  we 
should  regard  our  fellow-creatures  as  such,  should  admit  their 
rights  as  equal  to  ours,  should  put  ourselves  into  their  place  ; but 
if,  whilst  recognising  ourselves  as  individuals  possessed  of  full 
rights,  we  regard  others  as  empty  masks,  we  obviously  depart  from 
truth,  and  our  relation  to  them  is  wrong.  Finally,  if  we  are 
conscious  of  a higher  universal  principle  above  us,  truth  demands 
that  we  should  regard  it  as  higher,  that  is,  with  religious  devotion. 

This  moral  conception  of  right  or  truth  could  certainly  not 
have  arisen  were  not  the  feelings  of  shame,  pity,  and  reverence, 
which  immediately  determine  man’s  rightful  attitude  to  the  three 
fundamental  conditions  of  his  life,  present  in  his  nature  from  the 
first.  But  once  reason  has  deduced  from  these  natural  data  their 
inner  ethical  content  and  affirmed  it  as  a duty,  it  becomes  an  in- 
dependent principle  of  moral  activity,  apart  from  its  psychological 
basis.1  One  may  imagine  a man  whose  feeling  of  modesty  is  by 
nature  little  developed,  but  who  is  rationally  convinced  that  it 
is  his  duty  to  oppose  the  encroachments  of  the  lower  nature,  and 
conscientiously  fulfils  this  duty.  Such  a man  will  prove  in  fact 
to  be  more  moral  in  this  particular  respect  than  a man  who  is 
modest  by  nature,  but  whose  reason  is  defenceless  against  the 
temptations  of  sense  that  overcome  his  modesty.  The  same  is 
true  of  natural  kindness  (the  point  dwelt  upon  by  Kant)  and 
natural  religious  feeling.  Without  a consciousness  of  duty  all 
these  natural  impulses  to  moral  conduct  are  unstable,  and  can  have 
no  decisive  significance  in  the  conflict  of  opposing  motives. 

But  does  the  consciousness  of  duty  or  of  right  possess  such  a 
decisive  power  ? If  righteousness  from  natural  inclination  is  an 

1 See  Kritika  otvletchonnih  natchal  ( The  Critique  of  Abstract  Principles). 


VIRTUES 


ii3 

unstable  thing,  righteousness  from  a sense  of  duty  is  an  extremely 
rare  thing.  The  idea  of  right  as  actually  realised  thus  proves  to 
be  lacking  in  the  characteristics  of  universality  and  necessity.  The 
vital  interests  of  moral  philosophy  and  the  formal  demands  of  reason 
cannot  acquiesce  in  this  and  consequently  there  arises  a new 
problem  for  reason  : to  find  a practical  principle  which  would  not 
only  be  morally  right,  but  also  highly  desirable  in  itself  and  for 
every  one,  possessing  as  such  the  power  to  determine  human 
conduct  with  necessity,  independently  of  the  natural  inclinations 
of  the  soul  or  of  the  degree  of  spiritual  development — a principle 
equally  inherent  in,  understandable  to,  and  actual  for  all  human 
beings. 

When  reason  dwells  exclusively  or  mainly  on  this  aspect  of 
the  case,  the  moral  end  is  understood  as  the  highest  good  ( summum 
bonum\  and  the  question  assumes  the  following  form  : Does  there 
exist,  and  what  is  the  nature  of,  the  highest  good,  to  which  all 
other  goods  are  necessarily  subordinate  as  to  the  absolute  criterion 
of  the  desirable  in  general  ? 


I 


CHAPTER  VI 


THE  SPURIOUS  BASIS  OF  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY 
{A  Critique  of  Abstract  Hedonism  in  its  Different  Forms ) 

I 

The  moral  good  is  determined  by  reason  as  truth  (in  the  wide 
sense),  or  as  the  right  relation  to  everything.  This  idea  of  the 
good,  inwardly  all-embracing  and  logically  necessary,  proves  in  fact 
to  be  lacking  in  universality  and  necessity.  The  good  as  the  ideal 
norm  of  will  does  not,  in  point  of  fact,  coincide  with  the  good  as 
the  actual  object  of  desire.  The  good  is  that  which  ought  to 
be,  but  (i)  not  every  one  desires  what  he  ought  to  desire  ; 
(2)  not  every  one  who  desires  the  good  is  able  to  overcome,  for 
its  sake,  the  bad  propensities  of  his  nature  ; and  finally  (3)  the 
few  who  have  attained  the  victory  of  the  good  over  the  evil  in 
themselves — the  virtuous,  righteous  men  or  saints — are  powerless 
to  overcome  by  their  good  “ the  wickedness  in  which  the  whole 
world  lieth.”  But  in  so  far  as  the  good  is  not  desired  by  a person 
at  all,  it  is  not  a good  for  him  ; in  so  far  as  it  fails  to  affect  the 
will,  even  though  it  may  be  affirmed  as  desirable  by  the  rational 
consciousness,  it  is  only  an  ideal  and  not  a real  good  ; finally,  in 
so  far  as  it  fails  to  empower  a given  person  to  realise  the  moral 
order  in  the  world  as  a whole,  even  though  it  may  affect  the  will 
of  that  person  by  making  him  inwardly  better,  it  is  not  a 
sufficient  good. 

This  threefold  discrepancy  between  the  moral  and  the  real 
good  seems  to  render  the  idea  of  the  good  self-contradictory. 
The  definition  of  the  good  as  that  which  ought  to  be  involves, 
in  addition  to  its  ideal  content,  a real  demand  that  the  moral 


SPURIOUS  BASIS  OF  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  115 


content  should  not  remain  merely  theoretical,  but  that  it  should 
be  realised  in  practice.  The  very  conception  of  that  which  ought 
to  be  implies  that  it  ought  to  be  realised.  The  powerlessness  of 
the  good  is  not  a good.  It  cannot  be  right  that  only  a part  of 
humanity  should  desire  what  they  ought  to  desire,  that  only  a few 
should  live  as  they  ought,  and  that  none  should  be  able  to  make  the 
world  what  it  ought  to  be.  All  agree  that  the  moral  good  and 
happiness  ought  to  coincide  ; the  latter  ought  to  be  the  direct, 
universal,  and  necessary  consequence  of  the  former,  and  express 
the  absolute  desirability  and  actuality  of  the  moral  good.  But 
in  fact  they  do  not  coincide ; the  real  good  is  distinct  from 
the  moral  good,  and,  taken  separately,  is  understood  as  welfare. 
The  actual  insufficiency  of  the  idea  of  the  good  leads  us 
to  this  conception  of  welfare,  which,  as  a motive  for  action, 
apparently  possesses  the  concrete  universality  and  necessity  which 
are  lacking  to  the  purely  moral  demands.  For  every  end  of 
action  without  exception  is  directly  or  indirectly  characterised 
by  the  fact  that  the  attainment  of  that  end  satisfies  the  agent  or 
tends  to  his  welfare,  while  by  no  means  every  end  of  action  can 
be  directly  or  even  indirectly  characterised  as  morally  good. 
Every  desire  as  such  is  apparently  simply  a desire  for  its 
satisfaction,  i.e.  for  welfare  ; to  desire  calamity  or  dissatisfaction 
would  be  the  same  as  to  desire  that  which  is  known  to  be 
undesirable,  and  would,  therefore,  be  manifestly  absurd.  And 
if,  in  order  to  be  realised  in  practice,  the  moral  good  must 
become  the  object  of  desire,  the  ethical  principle  will  be  seen  to 
depend  upon  the  practical  idea  (practical  in  the  narrow  sense)  of 
the  real  good  or  welfare,  which  is  thus  raised  to  the  rank  of  the 
supreme  principle  of  human  action. 

This  eudaemonic  principle  (from  the  Greek  evSaqucma — 
the  condition  of  blessedness,  well-being)  has  the  obvious  advantage 
of  not  raising  the  question  Why  P One  may  ask  why  I should 
strive  for  the  moral  good  when  this  striving  is  opposed  to  my 
natural  inclinations  and  causes  me  nothing  except  suffering ; but 
one  cannot  ask  why  I should  desire  my  welfare,  since  I desire  it 
naturally  and  necessarily.  This  desire  is  inseparably  connected 
with  my  existence,  and  is  a direct  expression  of  it.  I exist  as 
desiring,  and  I desire  only  that,  of  course,  which  satisfies  me 
or  what  is  pleasant  to  me.  Every  one  finds  his  welfare  either  in 


1 1 6 THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

what  immediately  gives  him  pleasure  or  in  what  leads  to  it — 
that  is,  in  what  serves  as  a means  for  bringing  about  pleasurable 
states.  Thus  welfare  is  defined  more  closely  through  the  idea  of 
pleasure  (Greek  ^Sovij,  hence  the  theory  of  Hedonism). 

II 

When  that  which  ought  to  be  is  replaced  by  that  which  is 
desired,  the  end  of  life  or  the  highest  good  is  reduced  to  pleasure. 
This  idea,  clear,  simple,  and  concrete  as  it  appears  to  be,  involves 
insuperable  difficulties  when  applied  in  the  concrete.  It  is  im- 
possible to  deduce  any  general  principle  or  rule  of  action  from 
the  general  fact  that  every  one  desires  that  which  is  pleasing  to 
him.  The  assertion  that  the  final  end  of  action  is  directly  or 
indirectly  pleasure,  i.e.  satisfaction  of  the  subject  desiring,  is  as 
indisputable  and  as  pointless  as  the  assertion,  e.g.^  that  all  actions 
end  in  something  or  lead  to  something.  In  concrete  reality  we 
do  not  find  one  universal  pleasure,  but  an  indefinite  multitude 
of  all  kinds  of  pleasures,  having  nothing  in  common  between  them. 
One  person  finds  the  highest  bliss  in  drinking  vodka,  and  another 
seeks  “a  bliss  for  which  there  is  no  measure  and  no  name ” ; 
but  even  the  latter  person,  when  extremely  hungry  or  thirsty, 
forgets  all  transcendental  joys,  and  desires  above  all  things  food 
and  drink.  On  the  other  hand,  under  certain  conditions,  things 
which  had  given  enjoyment  or  seemed  pleasant  in  the  past  cease 
to  be  attractive,  and,  indeed,  life  itself  loses  all  value. 

In  truth  the  idea  of  pleasure  refers  to  a variety  of  accidental 
desires  which  differ  according  to  the  individual  taste  and 
character,  the  degree  of  mental  development,  age,  external 
position,  and  momentary  mood.  No  definite  expression  can  be 
given  to  pleasure  as  a universal  practical  principle,  unless  it  is  to 
be  ‘ Let  every  one  act  so  as  to  get  for  himself,  as  far  as  possible, 
what  is  pleasing  to  him  at  the  given  moment.’  This  rule,  on 
the  whole  firmly  established  and  more  or  less  successfully  applied 
in  the  animal  kingdom,  is  inconvenient  in  the  human  world  for 
two  reasons  : (i)  the  presence  in  man  of  unnatural  inclinations, 
the  satisfaction  of  which,  though  yielding  the  desired  pleasure, 
leads  at  the  same  time  to  clear  and  certain  destruction,  i.e.  to 
what  is  highly  undesirable  for  every  one  ; (2)  the  presence  in 


SPURIOUS  BASIS  OF  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  1x7 


man  of  reason,  which  compares  the  various  natural  impulses  and 
pleasures  with  one  another,  and  passes  judgment  on  them  from 
the  point  of  view  of  the  consequences  they  involve.  In  a 
rudimentary  form  we  find  such  judgment  even  among  the 
animals  who  act  or  refrain  from  action,  not  from  motives  of 
immediate  pleasant  or  unpleasant  feeling  only,  but  also  from 
considerations  of  further,  pleasant  or  unpleasant,  consequences 
following  upon  certain  behaviour.  But  with  animals  these 
considerations  do  not  extend  beyond  simple  associations  of  ideas. 
Thus,  the  idea  of  the  piece  of  meat  seized  without  permission  is 
accompanied  by  the  idea  of  the  blows  of  the  whip,  etc.  The 
more  abstract  character  of  the  human  reason  allows  us,  in  addition 
to  such  elementary  considerations,  to  make  a general  comparison 
of  the  immediate  motives  of  pleasure  with  their  remote  conse- 
quences. And  it  is  in  following  this  line  of  reflection  that  the 
most  thorough-going  hedonist  of  the  ancient  philosophy,  Hegesias 
of  Cyrenae,  came  to  the  conclusion  that  from  the  point  of  view  of 
pleasure  life  is  not  worth  living.  The  desire  for  pleasure  is 
either  fruitless  and  in  this  sense  painful,  or,  in  achieving  its 
object,  it  proves  to  be  deceptive,  for  a momentary  feeling  of 
pleasure  is  inevitably  followed  by  tedium  and  a new  painful 
search  after  illusion.  Since  it  is  impossible  to  reach  true  pleasure, 
we  must  strive  to  free  ourselves  from  pain,  and  the  surest  means 
to  do  so  is  to  die.  Such  was  the  outcome  of  Hegesias’s 
philosophy,  for  which  he  was  nicknamed  ‘ the  advocate  of  death  ’ 
(7T€«ri0cu'aTos).  But  even  apart  from  such  extreme  conclusions, 
the  analysis  of  the  idea  of  pleasure  makes  it  abundantly  clear  that 
‘ pleasure  ’ cannot  furnish  us  with  a satisfactory  principle  of 
conduct. 


Ill 

A simple  striving  for  pleasure  cannot  be  a principle  of  action 
because  in  itself  it  is  indefinite  and  devoid  of  content.  Its 
actual  content  is  wholly  unstable  and  is  to  be  found  solely  in  the 
accidental  objects  which  call  it  forth.  The  only  universal  and 
necessary  element  in  the  infinite  variety  of  pleasurable  states  is 
the  fact  that  the  moment  of  the  attainment  of  any  purpose  or 
object  of  desire  whatsoever  is  necessarily  experienced  and  is 


1 1 8 THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

imagined  beforehand  as  a pleasure,  i.e.  as  satisfied  or  realised 
desire.  But  this  elementary  psychological  truth  does  not  contain 
the  slightest  indication  either  as  to  the  nature  of  the  object  of 
desire  or  as  to  the  means  of  obtaining  it.  Both  remain  empiric- 
ally variable  and  accidental.  The  point  of  view  of  pleasure  does 
not  in  itself  give  us  any  actual  definition  of  the  highest  good  to 
which  all  other  goods  must  be  subordinate,  and  consequently 
gives  us  no  rule  or  principle  of  conduct.  This  becomes  still 
more  clear  if,  instead  of  taking  pleasure  in  the  general  sense  of 
satisfied  desire,  we  take  concrete  instances  of  it — i.e.  particular 
pleasurable  states.  These  states  are  never  desired  as  such, 
for  they  are  simply  the  consequence  of  satisfied  volition  and  not 
the  object  of  desire.  What  is  desired  are  certain  definite  realities 
and  not  the  pleasant  sensations  that  follow  from  them.  For  a 
person  who  is  hungry  and  thirsty,  bread  and  water  are  im- 
mediate objects  of  desire  and  not  a means  for  obtaining  pleasure 
of  the  sense  of  taste.  We  know,  of  course,  from  experience  that 
it  is  very  pleasant  to  eat  when  one  is  hungry  ; but  a baby  wants 
to  suck  previously  to  any  experience  whatever.  And  later,  on 
reaching  a certain  age,  the  child  has  a very  strong  desire  for 
objects,  about  the  actual  pleasurableness  of  which  it  knows,  as  yet, 
nothing  at  all.  It  is  useless  to  have  recourse  to  ‘heredity’  in 
this  case,  for  then  we  should  have  to  go  as  far  back  as  the  chemical 
molecules,  of  which  probably  no  one  would  say  that  they  seek  to 
enter  into  definite  combinations  simply  because  they  remember 
the  pleasure  they  had  derived  from  it  in  the  past. 

There  is  another  circumstance  which  does  not  permit  of 
identifying  the  good  with  the  fact  of  pleasure.  Every  one  knows 
from  experience  that  the  degree  of  the  desirability  of  an  object  or 
a state  does  not  always  correspond  to  the  actual  degree  of  pleasure 
to  be  derived  from  the  attainment  of  it.  Thus,  in  the  case  of 
strong  erotic  attraction  to  a person  of  the  opposite  sex,  the  fact 
of  possessing  this  particular  person  is  desired  as  the  highest  bliss, 
in  comparison  with  which  the  possession  of  any  other  person  is 
not  desired  at  all  ; but  the  actual  pleasure  to  be  derived  from  this 
infinitely  desirable  fact  has  certainly  nothing  to  do  with  infinity, 
and  is  approximately  equal  to  the  pleasure  of  any  other  satisfaction 
of  the  instinct  in  question.  Speaking  generally,  the  desirability 
of  particular  objects  or  their  significance  as  goods  is  determined 


SPURIOUS  BASIS  OF  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  119 


not  by  the  subjective  states  of  pleasure  that  follow  the  attainment 
of  them,  but  by  the  objective  relation  of  these  objects  to  our 
bodily  or  mental  nature.  The  source  and  the  character  of  that 
relation  is  not  as  a rule  sufficiently  clear  to  us  ; it  manifests  itself 
simply  as  a blind  impulse. 

But  although  pleasure  is  not  the  essence  of  the  good  or  the 
desirable  as  such,  it  is  certainly  its  constant  attribute.  Whatever 
the  ultimate  reasons  of  the  desirability  of  the  objects  or  states 
that  appear  to  us  as  good  may  be,  at  any  rate  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  the  achieved  good  or  the  fulfilled  desire  is  always 
accompanied  by  a sensation  of  pleasure.  This  sensation,  in- 
separably connected  with  the  good  as  the  necessary  consequence 
of  it,  may  then  serve  to  determine  the  highest  good  as  a practical 
principle. 

The  highest  good  is  from  this  point  of  view  a state  which 
affords  the  greatest  amount  of  satisfaction.  This  amount  is 
determined  both  directly  through  the  addition  of  pleasant  states 
to  one  another,  and  indirectly  through  the  subtraction  of  the  un- 
pleasant states.  In  other  words,  the  highest  good  consists  in  the 
possession  of  goods  which,  in  their  totality,  or  as  the  final  result, 
afford  the  maximum  of  pleasure  and  the  minimum  of  pain.1 
The  actions  of  the  individual  are  no  longer  prompted  by  a mere 
desire  for  immediate  pleasure,  but  by  prudence  which  judges  of 
the  value  of  the  different  pleasures  and  selects  those  among  them 
which  are  the  most  lasting  and  free  from  pain.  The  man  who 
from  this  point  of  view  is  regarded  as  happy  is  not  one  who  at 
the  given  moment  is  experiencing  the  most  intense  pleasure,  but 
one  in  whose  life  as  a whole  pleasant  sensations  predominate  over 
the  painful — who  in  the  long-run  enjoys  more  than  he  suffers. 
“The  wise  man,”  writes  Aristotle,  “seeks  freedom  from  pain,  and 
not  pleasure  ” (6  <f>povLfj.os  to  aXinrov  SiwKei.,  ov  to  rjSv).  This  is 
the  point  of  view  of  eudaemonism  proper  or  of  prudent  hedonism. 
A follower  of  this  doctrine  will  not c wallow  in  the  mire  of  sensuous 
pleasures,’  which  destroy  both  body  and  soul.  He  will  find  his 

1 Apart  from  any  pessimistic  theories,  freedom  from  pain  is  from  the  hedonistic 
point  of  view  of  more  importance  than  the  positive  fact  of  pleasure.  The  pain  of  an 
unsatisfied  and  strongly  individualised  sexual  passion,  which  not  unfrequently  drives 
people  to  suicide,  is  incomparably  greater  than  the  pleasure  of  the  satisfaction.  The 
latter  can  be  pronounced  to  be  a great  good  only  in  so  far  as  it  gives  relief  from  the 
great  pain  of  the  unsatisfied  desire. 


120  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


greatest  satisfaction  in  the  higher  intellectual  and  aesthetic  pleasures, 
which,  being  the  most  durable,  involve  the  least  degree  of  pain. 

IV 

In  spite  of  its  apparent  plausibility,  prudent  hedonism  shares 
the  fate  of  hedonism  in  general  : it  too  proves  to  be  an  illusory 
principle.  When  the  good  is  determined  as  happiness,  the 
essential  thing  is  the  attainment  and  the  secure  possession  of  it. 
But  neither  can  be  secured  by  any  amount  of  prudence. 

Our  life  and  destiny  depend  upon  causes  and  factors  beyond 
the  control  of  our  worldly  wisdom  ; and  in  most  cases  the  wise 
egoist  simply  loses  the  opportunities  of  actual,  though  fleeting 
pleasure,  without  thereby  acquiring  any  lasting  happiness.  The 
insecurity  of  all  pleasures  is  all  the  more  fatal  because  man, 
in  contradistinction  to  animals,  knows  it  beforehand  : the  inevit- 
able failure  of  all  happiness  in  the  future  throws  its  shadow  even 
over  moments  of  actual  enjoyment.  But  even  in  the  rare  cases  in 
which  a wise  enjoyment  of  life  does  actually  lead  to  a quantitative 
surplus  of  the  painless  over  the  painful  states,  the  triumph  of 
hedonism  is  merely  illusory.  It  is  based  upon  an  arbitrary  ex- 
clusion of  the  qualitative  character  of  our  mental  states  (taking 
quality  not  in  the  moral  sense,  which  may  be  disputed,  but  simply  in 
the  psychological  or,  rather,  in  the  psychophysical  sense  of  the  inten- 
sity of  the  pleasurable  states).  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  strongest, 
the  most  overwhelming  delights  are  not  those  recommended  by 
prudence  but  those  to  be  found  in  wild  passions.  Granted  that 
in  the  case  of  passions  also  the  pleasure  of  satisfaction  is  out  of 
proportion  to  the  strength  of  desire,  it  is  at  any  rate  incom- 
parably more  intense  than  the  sensations  which  a well-regulated 
and  carefully  ordered  life  can  yield.  When  prudence  tells  us  that 
passions  lead  to  ruin,  we  need  not  in  the  least  dispute  this 
truth,  but  may  recall  another  : 

All,  all  that  holds  the  threat  of  fate 
Is  for  the  heart  of  mortal  wight 
Full  of  inscrutable  delight. 

No  objection  can  be  brought  against  this  from  the  hedonistic 
point  of  view.  Why  should  I renounce  the  ‘inscrutable  delight’ 
for  the  sake  of  dull  well-being  ? Passions  lead  to  destruction, 


SPURIOUS  BASIS  OF  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  121 


but  prudence  does  not  save  from  destruction.  No  one  by  means 
of  prudent  behaviour  alone  has  ever  conquered  death. 

It  is  only  in  the  presence  of  something  higher  that  the  voice 
of  passions  may  prove  to  be  wrong.  It  is  silenced  by  the  thunder 
of  heaven,  but  the  tame  speeches  of  good  sense  are  powerless  to 
drown  it. 

The  satisfaction  of  passions  which  lead  to  destruction  cannot 
of  course  be  the  highest  good  ; but  from  the  hedonistic  point  of 
view  it  may  have  distinct  advantage  over  the  innocent  pleasures  of 
good  behaviour  which  do  not  save  from  destruction.  It  is  true  that 
intellectual  and  aesthetic  pleasures  are  not  only  innocent  but  noble  ; 
they  involve  limitations,  however,  which  preclude  them  from 
being  the  highest  good. 

(1)  These  ‘spiritual’  pleasures  are  from  the  nature  of  the  case 
accessible  only  to  persons  of  a high  degree  of  assthetic  and  intel- 
lectual development,  that  is,  only  to  a few,  while  the  highest 
good  must  necessarily  be  universal.  No  progress  of  democratic 
institutions  would  give  an  ass  the  capacity  of  enjoying  Beethoven’s 
symphonies,  or  enable  a pig,  which  cannot  appreciate  even  the 
taste  of  oranges,  to  enjoy  the  sonnets  of  Dante  or  Petrarch  or 
the  poems  of  Shelley. 

(2)  Even  for  those  to  whom  aesthetic  and  intellectual  pleasures 
are  accessible,  they  are  insufficient.  They  cannot  fill  the  whole 
of  one’s  life,  for  they  only  have  relation  to  some  of  our  mental 
faculties,  without  affecting  the  others.  It  is  the  theoretic,  con- 
templative side  of  human  nature  that  is  alone  more  or  less  satisfied 
by  them,  while  the  active,  practical  life  is  left  without  any  definite 
guidance.  The  intellectual  and  aesthetic  goods,  as  objects  of 
pure  contemplation,  do  not  affect  the  practical  will. 

Whilst  we  admire  the  heavenly  stars 
We  do  not  want  them  for  our  own. 

When  a person  puts  the  pleasures  of  science  and  of  art  above 
everything  from  the  hedonistic  point  of  view,  his  practical  will 
remains  without  any  definite  determination,  and  falls  easy  prey 
to  blind  passions.  And  this  shows  that  prudent  hedonism  is 
unsatisfactory  as  a guiding  principle  of  life. 

(3)  Its  unsatisfactoriness  is  also  proved  by  the  fact  that  hedonism 
is  powerless  against  theoretical  scepticism,  which  undermines  the 


122  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

value  of  the  actual  objects  of  intellectual  and  aesthetic  activity. 
Suppose  I find  a real  enjoyment  in  the  contemplation  of  beauty  and 
in  the  pursuit  of  truth.  But  my  reason — the  highest  authority 
for  ‘prudent’  hedonism — tells  me  that  beauty  is  a subjective 
mirage  and  that  truth  is  unattainable  by  the  human  mind.  My 
pleasure  is  thus  poisoned,  and,  in  the  case  of  a logical  mind,  is 
altogether  destroyed.  Even  apart  from  real  consistency,  how- 
ever, it  is  clear  that  the  delight  in  what  is  known  to  be  a 
deception  cannot  be  the  highest  good. 

(4)  Now,  suppose  that  our  epicurean  is  free  from  such 
scepticism,  and  unreflectively  gives  himself  up  to  the  delights  of 
thought  and  of  creative  art,  without  questioning  the  ultimate 
significance  of  these  objects.  To  him  these  ‘ spiritual  goods  ’ may 
appear  eternal ; but  his  own  capacity  for  enjoying  them  is 
certainly  far  from  being  so  ; it  can  at  best  survive  for  a brief 
period  his  capacity  for  sensuous  pleasures. 

And  yet  it  is  precisely  the  security  or  the  continuity  of  pleasures 
that  is  the  chief  claim  of  prudent  hedonism  and  the  main  advantage 
it  is  supposed  to  possess  over  the  simple  striving  for  immediate 
pleasure.  Of  course  if  our  pleasures  were  abiding  realities  that 
could  be  hoarded  like  property,  a prudent  hedonist  in  his  decrepit 
old  age  might  still  consider  himself  richer  than  a reckless 
profligate  who  had  come  to  premature  death.  But  since,  in  truth, 
past  pleasures  are  mere  memories,  the  wise  epicurean — if  he 
remains  till  his  death  true  to  the  hedonistic  point  of  view — will 
be  sure  to  regret  that  for  the  sake  of  faint  memories  of  the 
innocent  intellectual  and  aesthetic  pleasures  he  sacrificed  oppor- 
tunities of  pleasures  far  more  intense.  Just  because  he  never 
experienced  them,  they  will  now  evoke  in  him  painful  and  fruitless 
desire.  The  supposed  superiority  of  prudent  hedonism  to  a 
reckless  pursuit  of  pleasure  is  based  upon  an  illegitimate  confusion 
between  two  points  of  view.  It  must  be  one  or  the  other. 
Either  we  mean  the  present  moment  of  enjoyment,  and  in  that 
case  we  must  give  up  prudence  which  is  exhibited  even  in  animal 
behaviour,  or  we  are  thinking  of  the  future  consequences  of  our 
actions,  and  in  that  case  the  question  must  be  asked  : What 
precise  moment  of  the  future  is  to  be  put  at  the  basis  of  our 
reckoning  ? It  would  be  obviously  irrational  to  take  any 
moment  except  the  last,  which  expresses  the  total  result  of  the  whole 


SPURIOUS  BASIS  OF  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  123 

life.  But  at  that  last  moment  before  death  all  hedonistic  calculus 
is  reduced  to  naught,  and  every  possible  advantage  of  the  prudent 
over  the  reckless  pleasures  disappears  completely.  All  pleasures 
when  they  are  over  cease  to  be  pleasures,  and  we  know  this  before- 
hand. Hence  the  idea  of  the  sum  of  pleasures  is  meaningless  : the 
sum  of  zeros  is  not  any  larger  than  a simple  zero. 

V 

The  possession  of  external  goods — whether  they  be  pleasures 
of  the  moment  or  the  more  lasting  happiness  supposed  to  be 
secured  by  prudence — proves  to  be  deceptive  and  impossible.  Is, 
then,  true  welfare  or  the  highest  good  to  be  found  in  freedom 
from  external  desires  and  affections  which  deceive  and  enslave 
man  and  thus  make  him  miserable  ? All  external  goods  either 
prove  to  be  not  worth  seeking,  or,  depending  as  they  do  upon 
external  causes  beyond  the  control  of  man,  they  are  taken  away 
from  him  before  their  essential  unsatisfactoriness  has  even  been 
discovered  ; and  man  is  thus  made  doubly  miserable.  No  one 
can  escape  misfortune,  and  therefore  no  one  can  be  happy  so  long 
as  his  will  is  attracted  to  objects  the  possession  of  which  is  acci- 
dental. If  true  welfare  is  the  state  of  abiding  satisfaction,  then 
that  man  alone  can  be  truly  blessed  who  finds  satisfaction  in  that 
of  which  he  cannot  be  deprived,  namely,  in  himself. 

Let  man  be  inwardly  free  from  attachment  to  external  and 
accidental  objects,  and  he  will  be  permanently  satisfied  and  happy. 
Not  submitting  to  anything  foreign  to  him,  fully  possessing  him- 
self, he  will  possess  all  things  and  even  more  than  all  things.  If 
I am  free  from  the  desire  for  a certain  thing,  I am  more  master  of 
it  than  the  person  who  possesses  it  and  desires  it  ; if  I am  in- 
different to  power,  I am  more  than  the  ruler  who  cares  for  it  ; if 
I am  indifferent  to  everything  in  the  world,  I am  higher  than  the 
lord  of  all  the  world. 

This  principle  of  self-sufficiency  (avrapKeca),  though  expressing 
an  unconditional  demand,  is  in  truth  purely  negative  and  con- 
ditional. In  the  first  place,  its  force  depends  upon  those  very 
external  goods  which  it  rejects.  So  long  as  man  is  attached  to 
them,  freedom  from  such  attachment  is  desirable  for  his  higher 
consciousness  and  gives  a meaning  to  his  activity.  Similarly,  so 


124  THE  justification  of  the  good 

long  as  man  is  sensitive  to  the  accidental  pains  of  the  external 
life,  triumph  over  them,  steadfastness  in  adversity,  can  give  him 
supreme  satisfaction.  But  once  he  has  risen  above  the  attachment 
to  external  goods  and  the  fear  of  external  misfortune,  what 
is  to  be  the  positive  content  of  his  life  ? Can  it  consist  simply 
in  the  enjoyment  of  that  victory  ? In  that  case  the  principle 
of  self-sufficiency  becomes  vain  self-satisfaction  and  acquires  a 
comical  instead  of  a majestic  character.  The  unsatisfactoriness  of 
the  final  result  renders  it  superfluous  to  insist  upon  the  fact  that 
the  force  of  spirit  necessary  for  the  attainment  of  it  is  not  given 
to  every  one,  and  even  when  it  is,  is  not  always  preserved  to  the 
end.  The  principle  of  self-sufficiency  thus  proves  to  be  lacking 
in  power  of  realisation,  and  shows  itself  in  this  respect  also  to  be 
only  a pseudo- principle.  Freedom  from  slavery  to  the  lower 
accidental  goods  can  only  be  a condition  of  attaining  the  highest 
good,  but  not  itself  be  that  good.  A temple  cleared  of  idols 
which  had  once  filled  it,  does  not  thereby  become  God’s  holy 
tabernacle.  It  simply  remains  an  empty  place.1 

VI 

The  individual  finds  no  final  satisfaction  or  happiness  either 
in  the  outer  worldly  goods  or  in  himself  [i.e.  in  the  empty  form  of 
self-consciousness).  The  only  way  out  seems  to  be  afforded  by 
the  consideration  that  man  is  not  merely  a separate  individual 
entity  but  also  part  of  a collective  whole,  and  that  his  true 
welfare,  the  positive  interest  of  his  life,  is  to  be  found  in  serving 
the  common  good  or  universal  happiness. 

This  is  the  principle  of  Utilitarianism , obviously  correspond- 
ing to  the  moral  principle  of  altruism,  which  demands  that  we 
should  live  for  others,  help  all  so  far  as  we  are  able,  and  serve 
the  good  of  others  as  if  it  were  our  own.  In  the  opinion  of  the 
utilitarian  thinkers  their  teaching  must  coincide  in  practice  with 
the  altruistic  morality  or  with  the  commandments  of  justice  and 

1 The  principle  of  self-sufficiency  in  its  practical  application  partly  coincides  with 
the  moral  principle  of  asceticism  ; but  the  essential  difference  between  the  two  is  in 
their  starting-point  and  their  ultimate  motive.  Asceticism  seeks  to  attain  the  mastery 
of  the  spirit  over  the  flesh,  or  the  right  attitude  of  man  to  what  is  lower  than  he. 
The  demand  for  self-sufficiency  springs  from  a desire  for  happiness,  so  that  the  principle 
of  avrdpKeia  may  be  rightly  described  as  hedonistic  asceticism. 


SPURIOUS  BASIS  OF  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  125 


mercy.  c<  I must  again  repeat,”  writes  J.  S.  Mill,  e.g .,  “ what  the 
assailants  of  utilitarianism  seldom  have  the  justice  to  acknowledge, 
that  the  happiness  which  forms  the  utilitarian  standard  of  what  is 
right  in  conduct,  is  not  the  agent’s  own  happiness,  but  that  of  all 
concerned.  As  between  his  own  happiness  and  that  of  others, 
utilitarianism  requires  him  to  be  as  strictly  impartial  as  a dis- 
interested and  benevolent  spectator.  In  the  golden  rule  of  Jesus 
of  Nazareth  we  read  the  complete  spirit  of  the  ethics  of  utility. 
To  do  as  one  would  be  done  by,  and  to  love  one’s  neighbour  as 
oneself,  constitutes  the  ideal  perfection  of  utilitarian  morality.”  1 
But  Mill  does  not  see  that  the  distinction  between  these  two 
principles,  the  utilitarian  and  the  altruistic,  consists  in  the  fact 
that  the  command  to  live  for  others  is  enjoined  by  altruism  as  the 
expression  of  the  right  relation  of  man  to  his  fellow-creatures,  or 
as  a moral  duty  which  follows  from  the  pure  idea  of  the  good  ; 
while,  according  to  the  utilitarian  doctrine,  man  ought  to  serve 
the  common  good  and  to  decide  impartially  between  his  own 
interest  and  those  of  others  simply  because,  in  the  last  resort,  this 
course  of  action  (so  it  is  contended)  is  more  advantageous  or  useful 
to  himself.  Moral  conduct  thus  appears  to  stand  in  no  need  of 
any  special  independent  principle  opposed  to  egoism,  but  to  be  a 
consequence  of  egoism  rightly  understood.  And  since  egoism  is 
a quality  possessed  by  every  one,  utilitarian  morality  is  suited  to  all 
without  exception,  which,  in  the  opinion  of  its  followers,  is  an 
advantage  over  the  morality  of  pure  altruism,  whether  based  upon 
the  simple  feeling  of  sympathy  or  upon  the  abstract  conception  of 
duty.  Another  advantage  of  utilitarianism  is,  it  is  contended,  to 
be  found  in  the  fact  that  the  utilitarian  principle  is  the  expression 
of  the  actual  historical  origin  of  the  moral  feelings  and  ideas.  All 
of  these  are  supposed  to  be  the  result  of  the  gradual  extension 
and  development  of  self-interested  motives,  so  that  the  highest 
system  of  morality  is  simply  the  most  complex  modification  of 
the  primitive  egoism.  Even  if  this  contention  were  true,  the 
advantage  that  would  follow  therefrom  to  the  utilitarian  theory 
would  be  illusory.  From  the  fact  that  the  oak  tree  grows  out  of  the 
acorn  and  that  acorns  are  food  for  pigs,  it  does  not  follow  that  oak 
trees  are  also  food  for  pigs.  In  a similar  manner,  the  supposition 
that  the  highest  moral  doctrine  is  genetically  related  to  selfishness, 

1 J.  S.  Mill,  Utilitarianism , 2nd  ed.,  London,  1864,  pp.  24-25. 


126  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


that  is,  has  developed  from  it  through  a series  of  changes  in  the 
past,  does  not  warrant  the  conclusion  that  therefore  this  highest 
morality  in  its  present  perfect  form  can  also  be  based  upon  self- 
interest  or  put  at  the  service  of  egoism.  Experience  obviously 
contradicts  this  conclusion  : the  majority  of  people — now  as 

always — find  it  more  profitable  to  separate  their  own  interests  from  the 
common  good.  On  the  other  hand,  the  assumption  that  selfishness 
is  the  only  and  the  ultimate  basis  of  conduct  is  contrary  to  truth. 

The  view  that  morality  develops  out  of  individual  selfishness 
is  sufficiently  disproved  by  the  simple  fact  that  at  the  early  stages 
of  the  organic  life,  the  chief  part  is  played  not  by  the  individual 
but  by  the  generic  self-assertion,  which,  for  separate  entities,  is 
self-denial.  A bird  giving  up  its  life  for  its  young,  or  a working 
bee  dying  for  the  queen  bee,  can  derive  no  personal  advantage 
and  no  gratification  to  its  individual  egoism  from  its  act.1  A 
decisive  predominance  of  the  personal  over  the  generic  motives, 
and  at  the  same  time  the  possibility  of  theoretical  and  consistent 
selfishness,  only  arises  in  humanity  when  a certain  stage  in  the 
development  of  the  individual  consciousness  has  been  reached. 
In  so  far,  then,  as  utilitarianism  requires  that  the  individual 
should  limit  and  sacrifice  himself,  not  for  the  sake  of  any  higher 
principles,  but  for  the  sake  of  his  own  selfishness  rightly  under- 
stood, it  can  have  practical  significance  only  as  addressed  to  human 
individuals  at  a definite  stage  of  development.  It  is  from  this 
point  of  view  alone  that  utilitarianism  ought  to  be  considered 
here,  especially  because  the  questions  as  to  the  empirical  origin  of 
any  given  ideas  and  feelings  have  no  direct  bearing  upon  the  subject 
of  moral  philosophy. 

VII 

“ Every  one  desires  his  own  good  ; but  the  good  of  each  consists 
in  serving  the  good  of  all  ; therefore  every  one  ought  to  serve 
the  common  good.”  The  only  thing  that  is  true  in  this  formula 
of  pure  utilitarianism  is  its  conclusion.  But  its  real  grounds  are 

1 Concerning  the  primitive  character  of  self-surrender  or  ‘struggle  for  the  life  of 
others,’  see,  in  particular,  Henry  Drummond,  Ascent  of  Man.  The  fact  that  self- 
sacrifice  of  the  individual  for  the  species  is  based  upon  real  genetic  solidarity  does  not  in 
the  least  prove  that  such  sacrifice  is  the  same  thing  as  self-interest. 


SPURIOUS  BASIS  OF  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  127 

not  in  the  least  contained  in  the  two  premisses  from  which  it  is 
here  deduced.  The  premisses  are  false  in  themselves  and  placed 
in  a false  relation  with  one  another. 

It  is  not  true  that  every  one  desires  his  own  good,  for  a great 
many  persons  desire  simply  what  affords  them  immediate  pleasure, 
and  find  that  pleasure  in  things  which  are  not  in  the  least  good 
for  them,  or,  indeed,  in  things  that  are  positively  harmful — in 
drinking,  gambling,  pornography,  etc.  Of  course  the  doctrine 
of  the  common  good  may  be  preached  to  such  people  also,  but  it 
must  rest  upon  some  other  basis  than  their  own  desires. 

Further,  even  persons  who  admit  the  advantages  of  happiness 
or  of  lasting  satisfaction  over  momentary  pleasures,  find  their 
good  in  something  very  different  from  what  utilitarianism 
affirms  it  to  be.  A miser  is  very  well  aware  that  all  fleeting 
pleasures  are  dust  and  ashes  in  comparison  with  the  real  lasting 
goods  which  he  locks  up  in  a strong  safe  ; and  utilitarians  have 
no  arguments  at  their  command  whereby  they  could  induce  him 
to  empty  his  safe  for  philanthropic  purposes.  They  may  say  to 
him  that  it  is  in  his  own  interests  to  bring  his  advantage  into 
harmony  with  the  advantage  of  others.  But  he  has  fulfilled  this 
condition  already.  Suppose,  indeed,  that  he  obtained  his  riches  by 
lending  money  at  interest ; this  means  that  he  has  done  service  to 
his  neighbours  and  helped  them,  when  they  were  in  need,  by  giving 
them  loans  of  money.  He  risked  his  capital  and  received  a certain 
profit  for  it,  and  they  lost  that  profit  but  used  his  capital  when 
they  had  none  of  their  own.  Everything  was  arranged  to  mutual 
advantage,  and  both  sides  judged  impartially  between  their  own 
and  the  other  person’s  interests.  But  why  is  it  that  neither  Mill 
nor  any  of  his  followers  will  agree  to  pronounce  the  behaviour  of 
this  sagacious  money-lender  to  be  a true  pattern  of  utilitarian 
morality  ? Is  it  because  he  made  no  use  of  the  money  he 
hoarded  ? He  made  the  utmost  use  of  it,  finding  the  highest 
satisfaction  in  the  possession  of  his  treasures  and  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  his  power  (see  Pushkin’s  poem  The  Avaricious  Knight)  ; 
besides,  the  greater  the  wealth  hoarded,  the  more  useful  it  will  be 
to  other  people  afterwards,  so  that  on  this  side,  too,  self-interest 
and  the  interest  of  others  are  well  balanced. 

The  reason  that  utilitarians  will  not  admit  the  conduct  of  a 
prudent  money-lender  to  be  the  normal  human  conduct  is  simply 


128  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


that  they  really  demand  far  more  than  mere  harmony  between 
self-interest  and  the  interest  of  others.  They  demand  that  man 
should  sacrifice  his  personal  advantage  for  the  sake  of  the  common 
good,  and  that  he  should  find  in  this  his  true  interest.  But  this 
demand,  directly  contradicting  as  it  does  the  idea  of  ‘ self-interest,’ 
is  based  upon  metaphysical  assumptions  that  are  completely  foreign 
to  the  doctrine  of  pure  utilitarianism,  and  is,  apart  from  them, 
absolutely  arbitrary. 

Actual  cases  of  self-sacrifice  are  due  either  (i)  to  an  immediate 
impulse  of  sympathetic  feeling — when,  for  instance,  a person  saves 
another  from  death  at  the  risk  of  his  own  life  without  any  reflec- 
tions on  the  subject ; (2)  or  it  may  be  due  to  compassion  as  the 
dominating  trait  of  character,  as  in  the  case  of  persons  who  from 
personal  inclination  devote  their  life  to  serving  those  who  suffer  ; 
(3)  or  to  a highly  developed  consciousness  of  moral  duty  ; (4)  or, 
finally,  it  may  arise  from  inspiration  with  some  religious  idea. 
All  these  motives  in  no  way  depend  upon  considerations  of  self- 
interest.  Persons  whose  will  can  be  sufficiently  influenced  by 
these  motives,  taken  separately  or  together,  will  sacrifice  them- 
selves for  the  good  of  others,  without  feeling  the  slightest  neces- 
sity for  motives  of  a different  kind.1 

But  a number  of  people  are  unkind  by  nature,  incapable  of 
being  carried  away  by  moral  or  religious  ideas,  lacking  in  a clear 
sense  of  duty,  and  not  sensitive  to  the  voice  of  conscience.  It  is 
precisely  over  this  type  of  person  that  utilitarianism  ought  to 
show  its  power,  by  persuading  them  that  their  true  advantage 
consists  in  serving  the  common  good,  even  to  the  point  of  self- 
sacrifice.  This,  however,  is  clearly  impossible,  for  the  chief 
characteristic  of  these  people  is  that  they  find  their  good  not  in 
the  good  of  others,  but  exclusively  in  their  own  selfish  well-being. 

By  happiness  as  distinct  from  pleasure  is  meant  secure  or  lasting 
satisfaction  ; and  it  would  be  utterly  absurd  to  try  and  prove  to 
a practical  materialist  that  in  laying  down  his  life  for  others  or 
for  an  idea  he  would  be  securing  for  himself  an  abiding  satisfaction 
of  his  own , that  is,  of  his  material  interests. 

1 A fifth  possible  motive  is  the  thought  of  the  life  beyond  the  grave,  the  desire  to 
obtain  the  eternal  blessings  of  paradise.  Although  this  motive  is  a utilitarian  one  in 
the  broad  sense,  it  is  connected  with  ideas  of  a different  order,  which  the  modern  utili- 
tarian doctrine  rejects  on  principle. 


SPURIOUS  BASIS  OF  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  129 

It  is  clear  that  the  supposed  connection  between  the  good 
which  each  desires  for  himself  and  the  true  or  real  good,  as  the 
utilitarians  understand  it,  is  simply  a crude  sophism  based  upon 
the  ambiguity  of  the  word  ‘ good.’  First  we  have  the  axiom  that 
each  desires  that  which  satisfies  him  ; then  all  the  actual  multi- 
plicity of  the  objects  and  the  means  of  satisfaction  is  designated 
by  one  and  the  same  term  ‘good.’  This  term  is  then  applied  to 
quite  a different  conception  of  general  happiness  or  of  the  common 
good.  Upon  this  identity  of  the  term  which  covers  two  distinct 
and  even  opposed  conceptions  the  argument  is  based  that  since 
each  person  desires  his  own  good  and  the  good  consists  in  general 
happiness,  each  person  ought  to  desire  and  to  work  for  the  happi- 
ness of  all.  But  in  truth  the  good  which  each  desires  for  himself  is 
not  necessarily  related  to  general  happiness,  and  the  good  which 
consists  in  general  happiness  is  not  that  which  each  desires  for 
himself.  A simple  substitution  of  one  term  for  another  is  not 
enough  to  make  a person  desire  something  different  from  what 
he  really  does  desire  or  to  find  his  good  not  in  what  he  actually 
finds  it. 

The  various  modifications  of  the  utilitarian  formula  do  not 
make  it  more  convincing.  Thus,  starting  with  the  idea  of 
happiness  as  abiding  satisfaction,  it  might  be  argued  that  personal 
happiness  gives  no  abiding  satisfaction,  for  it  is  connected  with 
objects  that  are  transitory  and  accidental,  while  the  general 
happiness  of  humanity,  in  so  far  as  it  includes  future  generations, 
is  lasting  and  permanent,  and  may,  therefore,  give  permanent 
satisfaction.  If  this  argument  is  addressed  to  ‘ each  person,’  each 
can  reply  to  it  as  follows  : “To  work  for  my  personal  happiness 
may  give  me  no  abiding  satisfaction  ; but  to  work  for  the  future 
happiness  of  humanity  gives  me  no  satisfaction  whatever.  I cannot 
possibly  be  satisfied  with  a good  which,  if  realised  at  all,  would 
certainly  not  be  my  good,  for  in  any  case  I should  not  then  exist. 
Therefore,  if  personal  happiness  does  not  profit  me,  general 
happiness  does  so  still  less.  For  how  can  I find  my  good  in 
that  which  will  never  be  of  any  good  to  me  ? ” 

The  true  thought  involved  in  utilitarianism  as  worked  out  by 
its  best  representatives  is  the  idea  of  human  solidarity , in  virtue  of 
which  the  happiness  of  each  is  connected  with  the  happiness  of 
all.  This  idea,  however,  has  no  organic  connection  with  utili- 

K 


1 30  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

tarianism,  and,  as  a practical  principle,  is  incompatible  with  the 
utilitarian,  or,  speaking  generally,  with  the  hedonistic  range  of 
ideas.  One  may  quite  well  admit  the  fact  of  the  oneness  of  the 
human  race,  the  universal  solidarity  and  the  consequences  that  follow 
from  it  in  the  natural  order  of  things,  and  yet  not  deduce  from 
it  any  moral  rule  of  conduct.  Thus,  for  instance,  a rich  profligate, 
who  lives  solely  for  his  own  pleasure  and  never  makes  the  good 
of  others  the  purpose  of  his  actions,  may  nevertheless  justly  point 
out  that,  owing  to  the  natural  connection  between  things,  his 
refined  luxury  furthers  the  development  of  commerce  and  industry, 
of  science  and  arts,  and  gives  employment  to  numbers  of  poor 
people. 

Universal  solidarity  is  a natural  law,  which  exists  and  acts 
through  separate  individuals  independently  of  their  will  and 
conduct  ; and  if,  in  thinking  of  my  own  good  only,  I unwillingly 
contribute  to  the  good  of  all,  nothing  further  can  be  required 
from  me  from  the  utilitarian  point  of  view.  On  the  other  hand, 
universal  solidarity  is  a very  different  thing  from  universal 
happiness.  From  the  fact  that  humanity  is  essentially  one,  it  by 
no  means  follows  that  it  must  necessarily  be  happy  : it  may  be 
one  in  misery  and  destruction.  Suppose  I make  the  idea  of  uni- 
versal solidarity  the  practical  rule  of  my  own  conduct,  and,  in 
accordance  with  it,  sacrifice  my  personal  advantage  to  the  common 
good.  But  if  humanity  is  doomed  to  perdition  and  its  ‘ good  ’ is  a 
deception,  of  what  use  will  my  self-sacrifice  be  either  to  me  or  to 
humanity  ? Thus,  even  if  the  idea  of  universal  solidarity  could, 
as  a practical  rule  of  conduct,  be  connected  with  the  principle 
of  utilitarianism,  this  would  be  of  no  use  at  all  for  the  latter. 

In  utilitarianism  the  hedonistic  view  finds  its  highest  ex- 
pression ; if,  therefore,  utilitarianism  be  invalid  the  whole  of  the 
practical  philosophy  which  finds  the  highest  good  in  happiness  or 
self-interested  satisfaction  stands  condemned  also.  The  apparent 
universality  and  necessity  of  the  hedonistic  principle,  consisting 
in  the  fact  that  all  necessarily  desire  happiness,  proves  to  be 
purely  illusory.  For,  in  the  first  place,  the  general  term 
‘ happiness  ’ covers  an  infinite  multiplicity  of  different  objects, 
irreducible  to  any  inner  unity,  and  secondly,  the  universal 
desire  for  one’s  own  happiness  (whatever  meaning  might  be 
ascribed  to  this  word)  certainly  contains  no  guarantee  that  the 


SPURIOUS  BASIS  OF  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  131 

object  desired  can  be  attained,  nor  indicates  the  means  for  its 
attainment.  Thus  the  principle  of  happiness  remains  simply  a 
demana \ and  therefore  has  no  advantage  whatever  over  the  principle 
of  duty  or  of  the  moral  good,  the  only  defect  of  which  is  precisely 
that  it  may  remain  a demand,  not  having  in  itself  the  power 
necessary  for  its  realisation.  This  defect  is  common  to  both  prin- 
ciples, but  the  moral  principle  as  compared  with  the  hedonistic  has 
the  enormous  advantage  of  inner  dignity  and  of  ideal  universality 
and  necessity.  The  moral  good  is  determined  by  the  universal 
reason  and  conscience  and  not  by  arbitrary  personal  choice,  and  is 
therefore  necessarily  one  and  the  same  for  all.  By  happiness,  on 
the  other  hand,  every  one  has  a right  to  understand  what  he  likes. 

So  far  then  we  are  left  with  two  demands — the  rational  demand 
of  duty  and  the  natural  demand  for  happiness — (1)  all  men  must 
be  virtuous  and  (2)  all  men  want  to  be  happy.  Both  these  demands 
have  a natural  basis  in  human  nature,  but  neither  contains  in 
itself  sufficient  grounds  or  conditions  for  its  realisation.  More- 
over, in  point  of  fact  the  two  demands  are  disconnected  ; very 
often  they  are  opposed  to  one  another,  and  the  attempt  to  establish 
a harmony  of  principle  between  them  (utilitarianism)  does  not 
stand  the  test  of  criticism. 

These  demands  are  not  of  equal  value,  and  if  moral  philosophy 
compelled  us  to  choose  between  the  clear,  definite,  and  lofty — 
though  not  sufficiently  powerful — idea  of  the  moral  good  and  the 
equally  powerless  but  also  confused,  indefinite,  and  low  idea  of 
welfare,  certainly  all  rational  arguments  would  be  in  favour  of  the 
first. 

Before  insisting,  however,  upon  the  sad  necessity  of  such  a 
choice,  we  must  consider  more  closely  the  moral  basis  of 
human  nature  as  a whole.  So  far  we  have  only  considered  it 
with  reference  to  the  particular  development  of  its  three  partial 
manifestations. 


PART  II 

THE  GOOD  IS  FROM  GOD 


133 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  UNITY  OF  MORAL  PRINCIPLES 

I 

When  a man  does  wrong  by  injuring  his  neighbour  actively  or  by 
refusing  to  assist  him,  he  afterwards  feels  ashamed.  This  is  the 
true  spiritual  root  of  all  human  good  and  the  distinctive  character- 
istic of  man  as  a moral  being. 

What  precisely  is  here  experienced  ? To  begin  with,  there  is 
a feeling  of  pity  for  the  injured  person  which  was  absent  at  the 
actual  moment  of  injury.  This  proves  among  other  things  that 
our  mental  nature  may  be  stirred  by  impulses  more  profound  and 
more  powerful  than  the  presence  of  sensuous  motives.  A purely 
ideal  train  of  reflection  is  able  to  arouse  a feeling  which  external 
impressions  could  not  awake  ; the  invisible  distress  of  another 
proves  to  be  more  effective  than  the  visible. 

Secondly,  to  this  simple  feeling  of  pity,  already  refined  by  the 
absence  of  the  visible  object,  there  is  added  a new  and  still  more 
spiritualised  variation  of  it.  We  both  pity  those  whom  we  did 
not  pity  before,  and  regret  that  we  did  not  pity  them  at  the 
time.  We  are  sorry  for  having  been  pitiless — to  the  regret  for 
the  person  injured  there  is  added  regret  for  oneself  as  the  injurer. 

But  the  experience  is  not  by  any  means  exhausted  by  these 
two  psychological  moments.  The  feeling  in  question  derives  all 
its  spiritual  poignancy  and  moral  significance  from  the  third  factor. 
The  thought  of  our  pitiless  action  awakens  in  us,  in  addition  to 
the  reaction  of  the  corresponding  feeling  of  pity,  a still  more 
powerful  reaction  of  a feeling  which  apparently  has  nothing  to  do 
with  the  case — namely,  the  feeling  of  shame.  We  not  only  regret 
our  cruel  action,  but  are  ashamed  of  it,  though  there  might  be 

i35 


136  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

nothing  specifically  shameful  in  it.  This  third  moment  is  so 
important  that  it  colours  the  whole  mental  state  in  question.  In- 
stead of  saying, ‘ My  conscience  reproaches  me,’  we  simply  say,  ‘I 
am  ashamed,’  j'ai  honte , ich  schame.  In  the  classical  languages 
the  words  corresponding  to  our  term  ‘ conscience  ’ were  not  used 
in  common  parlance,  and  were  replaced  by  words  corresponding  to 
‘shame’ — a clear  indication  that  the  ultimate  root  of  conscience  is 
to  be  found  in  the  feeling  of  shame.  We  must  now  consider 
what  this  implies. 


II 

The  thought  of  having  violated  any  moral  demand  arouses 
shame,  in  addition  to  the  reaction  of  the  particular  moral  element 
concerned.  This  happens  even  when  the  demands  of  shame  in  its 
own  specific  sphere  (man’s  relation  to  his  lower  or  carnal  nature) 
have  not  been  violated.  The  action  in  question  may  not  in  any 
way  have  been  opposed  to  modesty  or  to  the  feeling  of  human 
superiority  over  material  nature.  Now  this  fact  clearly  shows 
that,  although  we  may  distinguish  the  three  roots  of  human  morality, 
we  must  not  separate  them.  If  we  go  deep  enough  they  will  be 
seen  to  spring  from  one  common  root  ; the  moral  order  in  the 
totality  of  its  norms  is  essentially  a development  of  one  and  the 
same  principle  which  assumes  now  this  and  now  that  form.  The 
feeling  of  shame  most  vitally  connected  with  the  facts  of  the  sexual 
life  transcends  the  boundaries  of  material  existence,  and,  as  the 
expression  of  moral  disapproval,  accompanies  the  violation  of  every 
moral  norm  to  whatever  sphere  of  relations  it  might  belong.  In  all 
languages,  so  far  as  I am  aware,  the  words  corresponding  to  our 
‘ stid  ’ (shame)  are  invariably  characterised  by  two  peculiarities  : (i) 
by  their  connection  with  the  sexual  life  (cuSws — at’Sota,  pudor — 
pudenda , honte — parties  honteuses , Scham — Schamteile\  and  (2)  by  the 
fact  that  these  words  are  used  to  express  disapproval  of  the  violation 
of  any  moral  demands  whatsoever.  To  deny  the  specific  sexual 
meaning  of  shame  (that  is,  the  special  shamefulness  of  the  carnal 
relation  between  the  sexes),  or  to  limit  shame  to  this  significance 
alone , one  must  reject  human  language  and  acknowledge  it  to  be 
senseless  and  accidental. 

The  general  moral  significance  of  shame  is  simply  a further 


THE  UNITY  OF  MORAL  PRINCIPLES  137 

development  of  what  is  already  contained  in  its  specific  and 
original  manifestation  with  regard  to  the  facts  of  the  sexual  life. 

Ill 

The  essence  and  the  chief  purpose  of  the  animal  life  un- 
doubtedly consists  in  perpetuating,  through  reproduction,  the 
particular  form  of  organic  being  represented  by  this  or  by  that 
animal.  It  is  the  essence  of  life  for  the  animal  and  not  merely  in 
him,  for  the  primal  and  unique  importance  of  the  genital  instinct 
is  inwardly  experienced  and  sensed  by  him,  though,  of  course, 
involuntarily  and  unconsciously.  When  a dog  is  waiting  for  a 
savoury  piece,  its  attitude,  the  expression  of  its  eyes,  and  its  whole 
being  seem  to  indicate  that  the  chief  nerve  of  its  subjective 
existence  is  in  the  stomach.  But  the  greediest  dog  will  altogether 
forget  about  food  when  its  sexual  instinct  is  aroused — and  a bitch 
will  readily  give  up  its  food  and  even  its  life  for  its  young.  The 
individual  animal  seems  in  this  case  to  recognise,  as  it  were, 
conscientiously  that  what  matters  is  not  its  own  particular  life  as 
such,  but  the  preservation  of  the  given  type  of  the  organic  life 
transmitted  through  an  infinite  series  of  fleeting  entities.  It 
is  the  only  image  of  infinity  that  can  be  grasped  by  the 
animal.  We  can  understand,  then,  the  enormous,  the  fundamental 
significance  of  the  sexual  impulse  in  the  life  of  man.  If  man  is 
essentially  more  than  an  animal,  his  differentiation  out  of  the 
animal  kingdom,  his  inner  self-determination  as  a human  being 
must  begin  precisely  in  this  centre  and  source  of  organic  life. 
Every  other  point  would  be  comparatively  superficial.  It  is 
only  in  this  that  the  individual  animal  becomes  conscious  of  the 
infinity  of  the  generic  life,  and,  recognising  itself  as  merely  a final 
event , as  merely  a means  or  an  instrument  of  the  generic  process, 
surrenders  itself  without  any  struggle  or  holding  back  to  the 
infinity  of  the  genus  which  absorbs  its  separate  existence.  And 
it  is  herefin.  this  vital  sphere,  that  man  recognises  the  insufficiency 
of  the  generic  infinity  in  which  the  animal  finds  its  supreme  goal. 
Man,  too,  is  claimed  by  his  generic  essence,  through  him,  too,  it 
seeks  to  perpetuate  itself — but  his  inner  being  resists  this  demand. 
It  protests  ‘ I am  not  what  thou  art,  I am  above  thee,  I am  not 
the  genus,  though  I am  of  it — I am  not  £ genus ’ but  ’■genius’  I 


138  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

want  to  be  and  I can  be  immortal  and  infinite,  not  in  thee  only, 
but  in  myself.  Thou  wouldst  entice  me  into  the  abyss  of  thy 
bad,  empty  infinity  in  order  to  absorb  and  destroy  me — but  I 
seek  for  myself  the  true  and  perfect  infinity  which  I could  share 
with  thee  also.  That  which  I have  from  thee  wants  to  be  mingled 
with  thee  and  to  drag  me  down  into  the  abyss  above  which  I have 
risen.  But  my  own  being,  which  is  not  of  thee,  is  ashamed  of 
this  mingling  and  opposed  to  it ; it  desires  the  union  which  alone 
is  worthy  of  it — the  true  union  which  is  for  all  eternity.’ 

The  enormous  significance  of  sexual  shame  as  the  foundation 
both  of  the  material  and  the  formal  morality  is  due  to  the  fact 
that  in  that  feeling  man  acknowledges  as  shameful,  and  therefore 
bad  and  wrong,  not  any  particular  or  accidental  deviation  from 
some  moral  norm  but  the  very  essence  of  that  law  of  nature  which 
the  whole  of  the  organic  world  obeys.  That  which  man  is  ashamed 
of  is  more  important  than  the  general  fact  of  his  being  ashamed. 
Since  man  possesses  the  faculty  of  shame,  which  other  animals  do 
not  possess,  he  might  be  defined  as  the  animal  capable  of  shame. 
This  definition,  though  better  than  many  others,  would  not  make 
it  clear,  however,  that  man  is  the  citizen  of  a different  world,  the 
bearer  of  a new  order  of  being.  But  the  fact  of  his  being 
ashamed  above  all  and  first  of  all  of  the  very  essence  of  animal 
life,  of  the  main  and  the  supreme  expression  of  natural  existence, 
directly  proves  him  to  be  a super-natural  and  super-animal  being. 
It  is  in  this  shame  that  man  becomes  in  the  full  sense  human. 

IV 

The  sexual  act  expresses  the  infinity  of  the  natural  process, 
and  in  being  ashamed  of  the  act  man  rejects  that  infinity  as 
unworthy  of  himself.  It  is  unworthy  of  man  to  be  merely  a 
means  or  an  instrument  of  the  natural  process  by  which  the  blind 
life-force  perpetuates  itself  at  the  expense  of  separate  entities 
that  are  born  and  perish  and  replace  one  another  in  turn.  Man 
as  a moral  being  does  not  want  to  obey  this  natural  law  of 
replacement  of  generations,  the  law  of  eternal  death.  He  does 
not  want  to  be  that  which  replaces  and  is  replaced.  He  is 
conscious — dimly  at  first — both  of  the  desire  and  the  power  to 
include  in  himself  all  the  fulness  of  the  infinite  life.  Ideally  he 


THE  UNITY  OF  MORAL  PRINCIPLES  139 

possesses  it  already  in  that  very  act  of  human  consciousness,  but 
this  is  not  enough  ; he  wants  to  express  the  ideal  in  the  real — 

for  otherwise  the  idea  is  only  a fancy  and  the  highest  self- 

consciousness  is  but  self-conceit.  The  power  of  eternal  life 
exists  as  a fact ; nature  lives  eternally  and  is  resplendent  with 
eternal  beauty;  but  it  is  ‘an  indifferent  nature’ — indifferent  to 
the  individual  entities  which  by  their  change  preserve  its 
eternity.  Among  these  beings,  however,  there  is  one  who 
refuses  to  play  this  passive  part.  He  finds  that  his  involuntary 
service  to  nature  is  a thing  to  be  ashamed  of,  and  that  the 

reward  for  it,  in  the  form  of  personal  death  and  generic 

immortality,  is  not  enough.  He  wants  to  be  not  the  instrument 
but  the  bearer  of  eternal  life.  To  achieve  this  he  need  not 
create  any  new  vital  force  out  of  nothing  ; he  has  only  to  gain 
possession  of  the  force  which  exists  in  nature  and  to  make  better 
use  of  it. 

We  call  man  a genius  when  his  vital  creative  force  is  not 
wholly  spent  on  the  external  activity  of  physical  reproduction, 
but  is  also  utilised  in  the  service  of  his  inner  creative  activity  in 
this  or  that  sphere.  A man  of  genius  is  one  who  perpetuates 
himself  apart  from  the  life  of  the  genus  and  lives  in  the  general 
posterity,  even  though  he  has  none  of  his  own.  But  if  such 
perpetuation  be  taken  as  final,  it  obviously  proves  to  be 
illusory.  It  is  built  upon  the  same  basis  of  changing  generations 
which  replace  one  another  and  disappear,  so  that  neither  he  who 
is  remembered  nor  those  who  remember  him  have  the  true  life. 
The  popular  meaning  of  the  word  genius  gives  only  a hint  of 
the  truth.  The  true  ‘genius’  inherent  in  us  and  speaking  most 
clearly  in  sexual  shame  does  not  require  that  we  should  have  a 
gift  for  art  or  science  and  win  a glorious  name  in  posterity.  It 
demands  far  more  than  this.  Like  the  true  ‘ genius ,’  i.e.  as 
connected  with  the  entire  genus  though  standing  above  it,  it 
speaks  not  to  the  elect  only  but  to  all  and  each,  warning  them 
against  the  process  of  bad  infinity  by  means  of  which  earthly 
nature  builds  up  life  upon  dead  bones — for  ever,  but  in  vain. 


Ho  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


V 

The  object  of  sexual  shame  is  not  the  external  fact  of  the 
animal  union  of  two  human  beings,  but  the  profound  and 
universal  significance  of  this  fact.  This  significance  lies 
primarily,  though  not  entirely,  in  the  circumstance  that  in  such 
union  man  surrenders  himself  to  the  blind  impetus  of  an 
elementary  force.  If  the  path  on  to  which  it  draws  him  were 
good  in  itself,  one  ought  to  accept  the  blind  character  of  the 
desire  in  the  hope  of  grasping,  in  time,  its  rational  meaning 
and  of  following  freely  that  which  at  first  commanded  our 
involuntary  submission.  But  the  true  force  of  sexual  shame  lies 
in  the  fact  that  in  it  we  are  not  ashamed  simply  of  submitting 
to  nature  but  of  submitting  to  it  in  a bad  thing,  wholly  bad. 
For  the  path  to  which  the  carnal  instinct  calls  us,  and  against 
which  we  are  warned  by  the  feeling  of  shame,  is  a path  which  is 
to  begin  with  shameful,  and  proves  in  the  end  to  be  both  pitiless 
and  impious.  This  clearly  shows  the  inner  connection  between 
the  three  roots  of  morality,  all  of  which  are  thus  seen  to  be 
involved  in  the  first.  Sexual  continence  is  not  only  an  ascetic, 
but  also  an  altruistic  and  a religious  demand. 

The  law  of  animal  reproduction  of  which  we  are  ashamed 
is  the  law  of  the  replacement  or  the  driving  out  of  one  generation 
by  another — a law  directly  opposed  to  the  principle  of  human 
solidarity.  In  turning  our  life -force  to  the  procreation  of 
children  we  turn  away  from  the  fathers,  to  whom  nothing  is 
left  but  to  die.  We  cannot  create  anything  out  of  ourselves — 
that  which  we  give  to  the  future  we  take  away  from  the  past, 
and  through  us  our  descendants  live  at  the  expense  of  our 
ancestors,  live  by  their  death.  This  is  the  way  of  nature ; she 
is  indifferent  and  pitiless,  and  for  that  we  are  not  responsible. 
But  our  participation  in  the  indifferent  and  pitiless  work  of 
nature  is  our  own  fault,  though  an  involuntary  one — and  we 
are  dimly  aware  of  that  fault  beforehand,  in  the  feeling  of  sexual 
shame.  And  we  are  all  the  more  guilty  because  our  participation 
in  the  pitiless  work  of  nature,  which  replaces  the  old  generations 
by  the  new,  immediately  affects  those  to  whom  we  owe  the 
greatest  and  special  duty  — our  own  fathers  and  forefathers. 
Thus  our  conduct  proves  to  be  impious  as  well  as  pitiless. 


THE  UNITY  OF  MORAL  PRINCIPLES  141 


VI 

There  is  a great  contradiction  here,  a fatal  antinomy,  which 
must  be  recognised  even  if  there  is  no  hope  of  solving  it. 
Child-bearing  is  a good  thing  ; it  is  good  for  the  mother,  who,  in 
the  words  of  the  Apostle,  is  saved  by  child-bearing,  and  is  of  course 
also  good  for  those  who  receive  the  gift  of  life.  But  at  the 
same  time  it  is  equally  certain  that  there  is  evil  in  physical 
reproduction  — not  the  external  and  accidental  evil  of  any  par- 
ticular calamities  which  the  newly  born  inherit  with  their  very 
life,  but  the  essential  and  moral  evil  of  the  carnal  physical  act 
itself,  in  and  through  which  we  sanction  the  blind  way  of  nature 
shameful  to  us  because  of  its  blindness,  pitiless  to  the  last 
generation,  and  impious  because  it  is  to  our  own  fathers  that  we  are 
pitiless.  But  the  evil  of  the  natural  way  for  man  can  only  be  put 
right  by  man  himself,  and  what  has  not  been  done  by  the  man  of 
the  present  may  be  done  by  the  man  of  the  future,  who,  being 
born  in  the  same  way  of  animal  nature,  may  renounce  it  and  change 
the  law  of  life.  This  is  the  solution  of  the  fatal  antinomy  : the 
evil  of  child-bearing  may  be  abolished  by  child-bearing  itself, 
which  through  this  becomes  a good.  This  saving  character  of 
child-bearing  will,  however,  prove  illusory  if  those  who  are  born 
will  do  the  same  thing  as  those  who  bore  them,  if  they  sin  and 
die  in  the  same  way.  The  whole  charm  of  children,  their 
peculiar  human  charm,  is  inevitably  connected  with  the  thought 
and  the  hope  that  they  will  not  be  what  we  are,  that  they  will 
be  better  than  we — not  quantitatively  better  by  one  or  two 
degrees,  but  essentially, — that  they  will  be  men  of  a different  life, 
that  in  them  indeed  is  our  salvation— for  us  and  for  our  fore- 
fathers. The  human  love  for  children  must  contain  something 
over  and  above  the  hen’s  love ; it  must  have  a rational  meaning. 
But  what  rational  meaning  can  there  be  in  regarding  a future 
scoundrel  as  the  purpose  of  one’s  life,  and  in  feeling  delight  and 
tenderness  for  him,  while  condemning  the  present  scoundrels  ? 
If  the  future  for  which  children  stand  differs  from  the  present 
only  in  the  order  of  time,  in  what  does  the  special  charm  of 
children  lie  ? If  a poisonous  plant  or  a weed  will  grow  out  of 
the  seed,  what  is  there  in  the  seed  to  admire  ? But  the  fact  is 
that  the  possibility  of  a better,  a different  way  of  life,  of  a 


i42  the  justification  of  the  good 

different  and  higher  law  which  would  lift  us  above  nature  with  its 
vague  and  impotent  striving  for  the  fulness  of  light  and  power — 
this  possibility , present  both  in  us  and  in  the  children,  is  greater 
in  them  than  in  us,  for  in  them  it  is  still  complete  and  has  not  yet 
been  wasted,  as  in  our  case,  in  the  stream  of  bad  and  empty  reality. 
These  beings  have  not  yet  sold  their  soul  and  their  spiritual  birth- 
right to  the  evil  powers.  Every  one  is  agreed  that  the  special 
charm  of  children  is  in  their  innocence.  But  this  actual  inno- 
cence could  not  be  a source  of  joy  and  delight  to  us  were  we 
certain  that  it  is  bound  to  be  lost.  There  would  be  nothing  com- 
forting or  instructive  in  the  thought  that  their  angels  behold  the 
face  of  the  heavenly  Father  were  it  accompanied  by  the  con- 
viction that  these  angels  will  be  sure  to  become  immediately  blind. 

If  the  special  moral  charm  of  children  upon  which  their 
aesthetic  attractiveness  is  based  depends  upon  a greater  possibility 
open  to  them  of  a different  way  of  life,  ought  we  not,  before 
bearing  children  for  the  sake  of  that  possibility , actually  to  alter  our 
own  bad  way  ? In  so  far  as  we  are  unable  to  do  this  child-bearing 
may  be  a good  and  a salvation  for  us  ; but  what  ground  have  we 
for  deciding  beforehand  that  we  are  unable  ? And  is  the  certitude 
of  our  own  impotence  a guarantee  for  the  future  strength  of  those 
to  whom  we  shall  pass  on  our  life  ? 

VII 

Sexual  shame  refers  not  to  the  physiological  fact  taken  in  itself 
and  as  such  morally  indifferent,  nor  to  the  sexual  love  as  such  which 
may  be  unashamed  and  be  the  greatest  good.  The  warning  and, 
later,  the  condemning  voice  of  sexual  shame  refers  solely  to  the 
way  of  the  animal  nature,  which  is  essentially  bad  for  man,  though 
it  may,  at  the  present  stage  of  human  development,  be  a lesser 
and  a necessary  evil — that  is,  a relative  good. 

But  the  true,  the  absolute  good  is  not  to  be  found  on  this 
path,  which  begins,  for  human  beings  at  any  rate,  with  abuse. 
Sexual  human  love  has  a positive  side,  which,  for  the  sake  of  brevity 
and  clearness,  I will  describe  as  '•being  in  love.'  This  fact  is  of 
course  analogous  to  the  sexual  desire  of  animals  and  develops  on 
the  basis  of  it,  but  clearly  it  cannot  be  reduced  to  such  desire — 
unless  man  is  to  be  altogether  reduced  to  animal.  Being  in  love 


THE  UNITY  OF  MORAL  PRINCIPLES  143 

essentially  differs  from  the  sexual  passion  of  animals  by  its  in- 
dividual, super-generic  character  : the  object  for  the  lover  is  this 
definite  person,  and  he  strives  to  preserve  for  all  eternity  not  the 
genus  but  that  person  and  himself  with  it.  Being  in  love  differs 
from  other  kinds  of  individual  human  love — parental,  filial, 
brotherly,  etc. — chiefly  by  the  indissoluble  unity  there  is  in  it 
between  the  spiritual  and  the  physical  side.  More  than  any  other 
love  it  embraces  the  whole  being  of  man.  To  the  lover  both 
the  mental  and  the  physical  nature  of  the  beloved  are  equally 
interesting,  significant,  and  dear  ; he  is  attached  to  them  with  an 
equal  intensity  of  feeling,  though  in  a different  way.1  What  is 
the  meaning  of  this  from  the  moral  point  of  view  ? At  the  time 
when  all  the  faculties  of  man  are  in  their  first  blossom  there  springs 
in  him  a new,  spiritually-physical  force  which  fills  him  with 
enthusiasm  and  heroic  aspirations.  A higher  voice  tells  him  that 
this  force  has  not  been  given  him  in  vain,  that  he  may  use  it  for 
great  things  ; that  the  true  and  eternal  union  with  another  being, 
which  the  ecstasy  of  his  love  demands,  may  restore  in  them  both 
the  image  of  the  perfect  man  and  be  the  beginning  of  the  same 
process  in  all  humanity.  The  ecstasy  of  love  does  not  of  course 
say  the  same  words  to  all  lovers,  but  the  meaning  is  the  same.  It 
represents  the  other,  or  the  positive,  side  of  what  is  meant  by 
sexual  shame.  Shame  restrains  man  from  the  wrong,  animal,  way  ; 
the  exultation  of  love  points  to  the  right  way  and  the  supreme 
goal  for  the  positive  overflowing  force  contained  in  love.  But 
when  man  turns  this  higher  force  to  the  same  old  purpose — to  the 
animal  work  of  reproduction — he  wastes  it.  It  is  not  in  the  least 
necessary  for  the  procreation  of  children  whether  in  the  human  or 
in  the  animal  kingdom.  Procreation  is  carried  on  quite  successfully 
by  means  of  the  ordinary  organic  functions,  without  any  lofty 
ecstasy  of  personal  love.  If  a simple  action  h is  sufficient  to 
produce  result  r,  and  a complex  action  a + b is  used  instead,  it  is 
clear  that  the  whole  force  of  a is  wasted. 

VIII 

The  feeling  of  shame  is  the  natural  basis  of  the  principle  of 
asceticism,  but  the  content  of  that  feeling  is  not  exhausted  by  the 
1 See  my  article  Smysl  liubvi  ( The  Meaning  of  Love). 


H4  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

negative  rules  of  abstinence.  In  addition  to  the  formal  principle 
of  duty,  which  forbids  shameful  and  unworthy  actions  and  con- 
demns us  for  committing  them,  shame  contains  a positive  side 
(in  the  sexual  sphere  connected  with  ‘being  in  love’),  which 
points  to  the  vital  good  that  is  preserved  through  our  con- 
tinence and  is  endangered  or  even  lost  through  yielding  to  the 
‘ works  of  the  flesh.’  In  the  fact  of  shame  it  is  not  the  formal 
element  of  human  dignity  or  of  the  rational  super-animal  power 
of  infinite  understanding  and  aspiration  which  alone  resists  the 
lure  of  the  animal  way  of  the  flesh.  The  essential  vital  wholeness 
of  man,  concealed  but  not  destroyed  by  his  present  condition, 
resists  it  also. 

We  are  touching  here  upon  the  domain  of  metaphysics  ; but 
without  entering  it  or  forsaking  the  ground  of  moral  philosophy, 
we  can  and  must  indicate  this  positive  aspect  of  the  fundamental 
moral  feeling  of  shame,  indubitable  both  from  the  logical  and  from 
the  real  point  of  view. 

Shame  in  its  primary  manifestation  would  not  have  its  peculiar 
vital  character,  would  not  be  a localised  spiritually  - organic 
feeling,  if  it  expressed  merely  the  formal  superiority  of  human 
reason  over  the  irrational  desires  of  the  animal  nature.  This 
superiority  of  intellectual  faculties  is  not  lost  by  man  on  the  path 
against  which  shame  warns  him.  It  is  something  else  that  is  lost 
— something  really  and  essentially  connected  with  the  direct  object 
of  shame  ; and  it  is  not  for  nothing  that  sexual  modesty  is  also 
called  continence d 

Man  has  lost  the  wholeness  of  his  being  and  his  life,  and  in  the 
true,  continent  love  to  the  other  sex  he  seeks,  hopes,  and  dreams 
to  re-establish  this  wholeness.  These  aspirations,  hopes,  and  dreams 
are  destroyed  by  the  act  of  the  momentary,  external,  and  illusory 
union  which  nature,  stifling  the  voice  of  shame,  substitutes  for  the 
wholeness  that  we  seek.  Instead  of  the  spiritually-corporeal  inter- 
penetration and  communion  of  two  human  beings  there  is 
simply  a contact  of  organic  tissues  and  a mingling  of  organic 
secretions  ; and  this  superficial,  though  secret,  union  confirms, 
strengthens,  and  perpetuates  the  profound  actual  division  of  the 

1 The  word  translated  by  ‘continence’  is  in  the  Russian  tselomudrie , which,  by 
derivation,  means  ‘ the  wisdom  of  wholeness  ’ (from  tselost — wholeness,  and  mudrost — 
wisdom). — Translator’s  Note. 


THE  UNITY  OF  MORAL  PRINCIPLES  145 

human  being.  The  fundamental  division  into  two  sexes  or  in 
half  is  followed  by  the  division,  conditioned  by  the  external 
union  of  the  sexes,  into  successive  series  of  generations  that 
replace  and  expel  one  another,  and  into  a multitude  of  co- 
existing entities  which  are  external,  foreign,  and  hostile  to  one 
another.  The  wholeness  or  unity  of  man  is  broken  in  depth, 
in  breadth,  and  in  length.  But  this  striving  for  division,  this 
centrifugal  force  of  life,  though  everywhere  realised  to  some  extent, 
can  never  be  realised  wholly.  In  man  it  assumes  the  inward 
character  of  wrong  or  sin,  and  is  opposed  to  and  in  conflict  with 
the  wholeness  of  the  human  being,  which  is  also  an  inward  con- 
dition. The  opposition  expresses  itself,  to  begin  with,  in  the 
fundamental  feeling  of  shame  or  modesty,  which,  in  the  sphere  of 
sensuous  life,  resists  nature’s  striving  for  mingling  and  division.  It 
expresses  itself  also  in  the  positive  manifestation  of  shame — in  the 
exultation  of  chaste  love,  which  cannot  reconcile  itself  either  to 
the  division  of  the  sexes  or  to  the  external  and  illusory  union. 
In  the  social  life  of  man  as  already  broken  up  into  many,  the 
centrifugal  force  of  nature  manifests  itself  as  the  egoism  of  each 
and  the  antagonism  of  all , and  it  is  once  more  opposed  by  the 
wholeness  which  now  expresses  itself  as  the  inner  unity  of 
externally  separated  entities,  psychologically  experienced  in  the 
feeling  of  pity. 


IX 

The  centrifugal  and  the  disruptive  force  of  nature  which 
strives  to  break  up  the  unity  of  man  both  in  his  psychophysical 
and  in  his  social  life,  is  also  directed  against  the  bond  which  unites 
him  to  the  absolute  source  of  his  being.  Just  as  there  exists  in 
man  a natural  materialism — the  desire  to  surrender  slavishly,  with 
grovelling  delight,  to  the  blind  forces  of  animality  ; as  there  exists 
in  him  a natural  egoism — the  desire  inwardly  to  separate  himself 
from  everything  else  and  to  put  all  that  is  his  own  unconditionally 
above  all  that  appertains  to  others — so  there  exists  in  man  a natural 
atheism  or  a proud  desire  to  renounce  the  absolute  perfection, 
to  make  himself  the  unconditional  and  independent  principle  of 
his  life.  (I  am  referring  to  practical  atheism,  for  the  theoretical 
often  has  a purely  intellectual  character  and  is  merely  an  error  of 

L 


146  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

the  mind,  innocent  in  the  moral  sense.)  This  is  the  most  im- 
portant and  far-reaching  aspect  of  the  centrifugal  force,  for  it 
brings  about  a separation  from  the  absolute  centre  of  the  universe, 
and  deprives  man  not  only  of  the  possibility,  but  even  of  the  desire 
for  the  all-complete  existence.  For  man  can  only  become  all 
through  being  inwardly  united  to  that  which  is  the  essence  of  all 
things.  This  atheistic  impulse  calls  forth  a powerful  opposition 
from  the  inmost  wholeness  of  man  which  in  this  case  finds 
expression  in  the  religious  feeling  of  piety.  This  feeling  directly 
and  undoubtedly  testifies  to  our  dependence,  both  individual  and 
collective,  upon  the  supreme  principle  in  its  different  manifesta- 
tions, beginning  with  our  own  parents  and  ending  with  the 
universal  Providence  of  the  heavenly  Father.  To  the  exceptional 
importance  of  this  relation  (the  religiously  moral  one)  corresponds 
the  peculiar  form  which  the  consciousness  of  wrong  assumes  when 
it  is  due  to  the  violation  of  a specifically  religious  duty.  We  are 
no  longer  ‘ashamed’  or  ‘conscience-stricken,’  but  ‘afraid.’  The 
spiritual  being  of  man  reacts  with  special  concentration  and 
intensity  in  the  feeling  of  the  ‘fear  of  God,’  which  may,  when 
the  divine  law  has  been  even  involuntarily  violated,  become  panic 
terror  ( horror  sacrilegu ),  familiar  to  the  ancients. 

Horror  sacrilegii  (in  the  classical  sense)  disappears  as  man 
grows  up  spiritually,  but  the  fear  of  God  remains  as  the  necessary 
negative  aspect  of  piety — as  ‘ religious  shame.’  To  have  fear  of 
God,  or  to  be  God-fearing,  does  not  of  course  mean  to  be  afraid. 
of  the  Deity,  but  to  be  afraid  of  one’s  opposition  to  the  Deity,  or 
of  one’s  wrong  relation  to  Him.  It  is  the  feeling  of  being  out  of 
harmony  with  the  absolute  good  or  perfection,  and  it  is  the 
counterpart  of  the  feeling  of  reverence  or  piety  in  and  through 
which  man  affirms  his  right  or  due  relation  to  the  higher  principle 
— namely,  his  striving  to  participate  in  its  perfection,  and  to 
realise  the  wholeness  of  his  own  being. 

X 

If  we  understand  shame  rooted  in  the  sexual  life  as  the  mani- 
festation of  the  wholeness  of  the  human  being,  we  shall  not  be 
surprised  to  find  that  feeling  overflowing  into  other  moral  spheres. 

Speaking  generally,  it  is  necessary  to  distinguish  the  inner 


THE  UNITY  OF  MORAL  PRINCIPLES  147 

essence  of  morality  both  from  its  formal  principle,  or  the  moral 
law,  and  from  its  concrete  expressions.  The  essence  of  morality 
is  in  itself  one — the  wholeness  of  man,  inherent  in  his  nature  as  an 
abiding  norm , and  realised  in  life  and  history  as  moral  doing , as  the 
struggle  with  the  centrifugal  and  the  disruptive  forces  of  existence. 
The  formal  principle,  or  the  law  of  that  doing,  is  in  its  purely 
rational  expression  as  duty  also  one  : thou  oughtest  in  all  things  to 
preserve  the  norm  of  human  existence,  to  guard  the  wholeness  of 
the  human  being,  or,  negatively,  thou  oughtest  not  to  allow 
anything  that  is  opposed  to  the  norm,  any  violation  of  the 
wholeness.  But  the  one  essence  and  the  one  law  of  morality 
are  manifested  in  various  ways,  according  to  the  concrete 
actual  relations  of  human  life.  Such  relations  are  indefinitely 
numerous,  though  both  logical  necessity  and  facts  of  experience 
equally  compel  us,  as  we  have  seen,  to  distinguish  three  main 
kinds  of  relation  that  fall  within  the  range  of  morality  — the 
relations  to  the  world  below  us,  to  the  world  of  beings  like  us,  and 
to  the  higher. 

The  roots  of  all  that  is  real  are  hidden  in  darkest  earth,  and 
morality  is  no  exception.  It  does  not  belong  to  a kingdom  where 
trees  grow  with  their  roots  uppermost.  Its  roots  too  are  hidden 
in  the  lower  sphere.  The  whole  of  morality  grows  out  of  the 
feeling  of  shame.  The  inner  essence,  the  concrete  expression, 
and  the  formal  principle  or  law  of  morality  are  contained  in  that 
feeling  like  a plant  in  a seed,  and  are  distinguished  only  by  reflec- 
tive thought.  The  feeling  of  shame  involves  at  one  and  the  same 
time  a consciousness  of  the  moral  nature  of  man  which  strives 
to  maintain  its  wholeness,  a special  expression  of  that  wholeness — 
continence, — and  a moral  imperative  which  forbids  man  to  yield 
to  the  powerful  call  of  the  lower  nature,  and  reproaches  him  for 
yielding  to  it.  The  commands  and  the  reproaches  of  shame  are 
not  merely  negative  and  preventive  in  meaning.  They  have  a 
positive  end  in  view.  We  must  preserve  our  inner  potential 
wholeness  in  order  to  be  able  to  realise  it  as  a fact,  and  actually 
to  create  the  whole  man  in  a better  and  more  lasting  way  than  the 
one  which  nature  offers  us.  ‘ That’s  not  it,  that’s  not  it  ! ’ says  the 
feeling  of  shame,  thus  promising  us  the  true , the  right  thing , for 
the  sake  of  which  it  is  worth  while  to  renounce  the  way  of  the  flesh. 
This  way,  condemned  by  shame,  is  the  way  of  psychophysical 


14B  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

disruption — spiritual  as  well  as  corporeal, — and  to  such  disruption 
is  opposed  not  only  the  spiritual,  but  also  the  physical  wholeness 
of  man. 

But  realisation  of  complete  wholeness,  of  which  continence  is 
merely  the  beginning,  requires  the  fulness  of  conditions  embracing 
the  whole  of  human  life.  This  realisation  is  complicated  and 
delayed,  though  not  prevented  by  the  fact  that  man  has  already 
multiplied,  and  that  his  single  being  has  been  divided  into  a 
number  of  separate  entities.  Owing  to  this  new  condition 
which  creates  man  as  a social  being , the  abiding  wholeness  of  his 
nature  expresses  itself  no  longer  in  continence  alone  that  safe- 
guards him  from  natural  disruption  but  also  in  social  solidarity 
which,  through  the  feeling  of  pity,  re-establishes  the  moral  unity 
of  the  physically  divided  man.  At  this  stage  the  difference 
between  the  moral  elements,  merged  into  one  in  the  primary 
feeling  of  shame,  becomes  more  clear.  The  feeling  of  pity 
expresses  the  inner  solidarity  of  living  beings,  but  is  not  identical 
with  it,  and  it  preserves  its  own  psychological  distinctness  as 
compared  with  the  instinctive  shame.  The  formally- moral 
element  of  shame  which  at  first  was  indistinguishable  from  its 
psychophysical  basis,  now  develops  into  the  more  subtle  and 
abstract  feeling  of  conscience  (in  the  narrow  sense).  Correspond- 
ing to  the  transformation  of  the  carnal  instinct  into  egoism, 
we  have  the  transformation  of  shame  into  conscience.  But  the 
ultimate  and  fundamental  significance  of  shame  shows  itself  here 
also,  for,  as  already  pointed  out,  the  words  ‘ conscience  ’ and 
‘shame’  are  interchangeable  even  in  the  case  of  actions  that  are 
purely  egoistic  and  have  nothing  to  do  with  sex.  Morality  is 
one,  and  being  fully  expressed  in  shame,  it  reacts  both  against 
the  works  of  the  flesh  and  ( implicite ) against  the  bad  con- 
sequences of  these  works — among  them,  against  the  egoism  of  the 
man  already  made  multiple.  The  specific  moral  reaction  against 
this  new  evil  finds  its  psychological  expression  in  pity,  and  its 
formally-moral  expression  in  conscience — this  ‘ social  shame.’ 

But  neither  the  moral  purity  of  continence  preserved  by 
shame,  nor  the  perfect  moral  solidarity  which  inspires  our  heart 
with  equal  pity  for  all  living  beings,  empowers  us  to  realise  that 
which  chaste  love  and  all-embracing  pity  demand.  And  yet 
conscience  clearly  tells  us  ‘ you  must,  therefore  you  can.’ 


THE  UNITY  OF  MORAL  PRINCIPLES  149 

Man  is  ashamed  of  the  carnal  way  because  it  is  the  way  of  the 
breaking  up  and  scattering  of  the  life-force,  and  the  end  of  it  is 
death  and  corruption.  If  he  is  really  ashamed  of  it  and  feels  it  to 
be  wrong,  he  must  follow  the  opposite  path  of  wholeness  and 
concentration  leading  to  eternal  life  and  incorruptibility.  If, 
further,  he  really  pities  all  his  fellow-creatures,  his  aim  must  be 
to  make  all  immortal  and  incorruptible.  His  conscience  tells  him 
that  he  must  do  it,  and  that  therefore  he  can. 

And  yet  it  is  obvious  that  the  task  of  gaining  immortal  and 
incorruptible  life  for  all  is  above  man.  But  he  is  not  divided  by 
any  impermeable  barrier  from  that  which  is  above  him.  In  the 
religious  feeling  the  hidden  normal  being  of  man  reacts  against 
human  impotence  as  clearly  as  in  the  feeling  of  shame  it  reacts 
against  carnal  desires,  and  in  pity  against  egoism.  And  conscience, 
assuming  the  new  form  of  the  fear  of  God,  tells  him  : all  that 
you  ought  to  be  and  have  the  power  to  be  is  in  God  ; you  ought 
and  therefore  you  can  surrender  yourself  to  Him  completely, 
and  through  Him  fulfil  your  wholeness  — gaining  the  abiding 
satisfaction  of  your  chaste  love  and  your  pity,  and  obtaining 
for  yourself  and  for  all  immortal  and  incorruptible  life.  Your 
impotence  is  really  as  anomalous  as  shamelessness  and  pitilessness  ; 
this  anomaly  is  due  to  your  separation  from  the  absolute  principle 
of  right  and  power.  Through  your  reunion  with  Him,  you  must 
and  can  correct  it.1 

The  supreme  principle  to  which  we  are  united  through  the 
religious  feeling  is  not  merely  an  ideal  perfection.  Perfection  as 
an  idea  is  possible  for  man.  But  man  is  powerless  to  make  his 
perfection  actual,  to  make  his  good  the  concrete  good.  Herein 
is  the  deepest  foundation  of  his  dependence  upon  the  Being  in 
whom  perfection  is  given  as  an  eternal  reality,  and  who  is  the 
indivisible  and  unchangeable  identity  of  Good,  Happiness,  and 
Bliss.  In  so  far  as  we  are  united  to  It  by  the  purity  and  the 
whole-heartedness  of  our  aspirations,  we  receive  the  corresponding 
power  to  fulfil  them,  the  force  to  render  actual  the  potential 
wholeness  of  all  humanity. 

This  is  the  reason  why  we  are  so  ashamed  or  conscience- 

1 In  the  Church  prayer  human  impotence  is  put  side  by  side  with  sins  and  trans- 
gressions : “ Lord,  cleanse  our  sins  ; God,  forgive  our  transgressions  ; Holy  One,  Visit 
and  heal  our  frailties.”  Frailties  is  here  used  especially  in  opposition  to  holiness. 


150  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

stricken  at  every  bad  action  or  even  a bad  thought.  It  is  not  an 
abstract  principle  or  any  arbitrary  rule  that  is  violated  thereby. 
But  a false  step  is  taken,  a delay  is  caused  on  the  only  true  path 
to  the  one  goal  that  is  worth  reaching — the  restoration  of  immortal 
and  incorruptible  life  for  all. 

Shame  and  conscience  and  fear  of  God  are  merely  the 
negative  expressions  of  the  conditions  that  are  indispensable  to 
the  real  and  great  work  of  manifesting  God  in  man. 

XI 

The  moral  good  then  is  from  its  very  nature  a way  of 
actually  attaining  true  blessedness  or  happiness — such  happiness, 
that  is,  as  can  give  man  complete  and  abiding  satisfaction. 
Happiness  (and  blessedness)  in  this  sense  is  simply  another 
aspect  of  the  good,  or  another  way  of  looking  at  it — there  is  as 
much  inner  connection  and  as  little  possibility  of  contradiction 
between  these  two  ideas  as  between  cause  and  effect,  purpose  and 
means,  etc.  One  ought  to  desire  the  good  for  its  own  sake , but 
the  purity  of  the  will  is  not  in  the  least  marred  by  the  conscious- 
ness that  the  good  must  itself  necessarily  mean  happiness  for  the 
one  who  fulfils  its  demands.  On  the  other  hand,  the  circum- 
stance that  it  is  natural  to  desire  happiness  does  not  in  any  way 
prevent  us  from  understanding  and  bearing  in  mind  the  empirical 
fact  that  all  happiness  which  is  not  fictitious  or  illusory  must  be  con- 
ditioned by  the  good,  i.e.  by  the  fulfilment  of  the  moral  demands. 

If  the  law  of  blessedness  or  of  true  evScu/xcma  is  determined 
by  the  moral  good,  there  can  be  no  opposition  between  the 
morality  of  pure  duty  and  eudaemonism  in  general.  The  good 
will  must  be  autonomous  ; but  the  admission  that  right  conduct 
leads  to  true  happiness  does  not  involve  the  heteronomy  of  the 
will.  Such  an  admission  bases  happiness  upon  the  moral  good, 
subordinates  it  to  the  latter,  and  is  therefore  in  perfect  agreement 
with  the  autonomy  of  the  will.  Heteronomy  consists,  on  the 
contrary,  in  separating  happiness  from  what  is  morally  right,  in 
subordinating  the  desirable  not  to  the  moral  law,  but  to  a law 
foreign  to  morality.  Thus  the  fundamental  opposition  is  not 
between  morality  and  eudaemonism  as  such,  but  between  morality 
and  eudaemonism  which  is  abstract  or,  more  exactly,  which 


THE  UNITY  OF  MORAL  PRINCIPLES  151 


abstracts  happiness  from  its  true  and  purely  moral  conditions, 
thus  rendering  it  fictitious  and  illusory. 

Why  then  does  the  fulfilment  of  duty  so  often  fail  to  give 
complete  satisfaction  ? I so  little  wish  to  avoid  this  objection  that 
I would  make  it  stronger,  and  urge  that  human  virtue  never  gives 
complete  satisfaction.  But  is  this  virtue  itself  ever  complete , 
and  is  there  any  one  born  ‘ Ik  OeXrjfxaTos  crapKo s’  1 Ik  0eA?j/xaTos 
avSpos  ’ who  has  ever  perfectly  fulfilled  his  duty  ? It  is  clear  that 
the  perfect  good  has  never  been  realised  by  any  individual  human 
being  5 and  it  is  just  as  clear  that  a superhuman  being,  capable  of  real- 
ising the  perfect  good,  will  find  complete  or  perfect  satisfaction  in 
doing  so.  It  follows  also  that  the  autonomy  of  the  will,  that  is,  the 
power  to  desire  the  pure  good  for  its  own  sake  alone,  apart  from 
any  extraneous  considerations,  and  to  desire  the  complete  good — is 
merely  a formal  and  subjective  characteristic  of  man.  Before  it  can 
become  real  and  objective,  man  must  acquire  the  power  actually 
to  fulfil  the  whole  good,  and  thus  obtain  perfect  satisfaction. 
Apart  from  this  condition,  virtue  has  a negative  and  insufficient 
character,  which  is  not  due  to  the  nature  of  the  moral  principle 
itself.  Thus  when,  in  the  first  place,  the  moral  principle  demands 
that  the  spirit  should  have  power  over  the  flesh,  this  demand 
involves  no  external  limitations.  The  norm  is  the  perfect  and 
absolute  power  of  the  spirit  over  the  flesh,  its  complete  and  actual 
autonomy,  in  virtue  of  which  it  must  not  submit  to  the  extrane- 
ous law  of  carnal  existence — the  law  of  death  and  corruption.  In 
this  respect,  then,  immortal  and  incorruptible  life  is  alone  a perfect 
good,  and  it  also  is  perfect  happiness.  Morality  which  does  not 
lead  to  a really  immortal  and  incorruptible  life,  cannot  in 
strictness  be  called  autonomous,  for  it  obviously  submits  to  the  law 
of  material  life  that  is  foreign  to  it.  Similarly,  with  reference  to 
altruism  the  moral  demand  to  help  every  one  puts  no  limit  to  that 
help,  and  obviously  the  complete  good  here  requires  that  we  should 
obtain  for  all  our  fellow-beings  perfect  blessedness  or  absolute 
happiness.  Our  altruism  does  not  fulfil  this  demand  ; but  the 
insufficiency  of  our  good  is  due  not  to  the  moral  law,  whose 
requirements  are  unlimited,  but  to  the  law  of  limited  material 
being  that  is  alien  to  it.  Consequently,  altruism  which  obeys  this 
foreign  law  cannot  in  the  strict  sense  be  called  an  expression  of 
autonomous  morality,  but  proves  to  be  heteronomous. 


152  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


XII 

The  good  then  is  accompanied  by  dissatisfaction  or  absence  of 
happiness  only  when  and  in  so  far  as  it  is  incomplete  and  imperfect, 
only  in  so  far  as  the  moral  law  is  not  fulfilled  to  the  end  and  still 
gives  way  before  another  law,  extraneous  to  it.  But  the  perfect 
or  the  purely  autonomous  good  gives  also  perfect  satisfaction. 
In  other  words,  the  good  is  separated  from  happiness  not  by  the 
nature  of  its  demands,  but  by  the  external  obstacles  in  the  way  of 
their  realisation.  Moral  principle  consistently  carried  out  to  the 
end,  duty  perfectly  fulfilled  inevitably  leads  to  the  highest  good 
or  happiness.  The  opposition,  therefore,  between  the  theory  of 
general  happiness  and  pure  morality  is  merely  accidental,  due  to 
the  empirical  imperfection  of  the  human  good  or  to  a wrong 
conception  both  of  good  and  of  happiness.  In  the  first  case,  the 
discrepancy  between  good  and  happiness  (sufferings  of  the  right- 
eous) proves  merely  the  insufficiency  or  the  incompleteness — the 
unfinished  character  of  the  given  moral  condition.  In  the  second 
case,  that  of  a wrong  conception,  the  moral  interest  is  absent 
altogether,  both  when  the  wrongly  conceived  good  coincides  or 
when  it  does  not  coincide  with  the  wrongly  conceived  happiness. 
Thus,  for  instance,  if  a person  zealously  prays  that  he  might  pick 
up  in  the  street  a purse  full  of  money,  or  win  in  a lottery,  the 
failure  of  such  prayer  has  no  bearing  whatever  upon  the  question 
as  to  the  disharmony  between  virtue  (in  this  case  religious  virtue) 
and  well-being,  or  good  and  happiness.  For  in  this  case  both  are 
wrongly  understood.  Prayer  as  a means  to  a low  and  selfish  end  is 
opposed  to  the  Divine  and  the  human  dignity,  and  is  not  a real  good  ; 
nor  is  the  acquisition  of  money  which  one  has  not  deserved  a blessing 
or  real  happiness.  On  the  other  hand,  when  a man  does  philan- 
thropic work  not  out  of  pity  or  altruistic  motives,  but  only  for  the 
sake  of  obtaining  an  order  of  merit,  and  actually  receives  such  an 
order,  such  coincidence  between  the  wrongly  conceived  good  and 
the  wrongly  conceived  happiness  is  of  as  little  interest  to  ethics 
as  the  discrepancy  between  the  two  in  the  first  case.  There  is 
no  need  to  prove  that  although  such  philanthropy  may  be  useful 
from  the  social  and  practical  point  of  view,  it  is  not  a virtue,  nor 
that  an  order  of  merit  is  but  an  illusory  blessing.  It  is  clear 


THE  UNITY  OF  MORAL  PRINCIPLES  153 


that  true  welfare  can  only  be  born  of  feelings  and  actions 
that  are  themselves  well  conceived,  i.e.  that  possess  moral 
dignity  and  are  in  harmony  with  the  good  ; and  that  real  good  in 
its  turn  cannot  in  the  long  run  lead  to  misfortune,  i.e.  to  evil. 
It  is  very  significant  indeed  that  the  same  conception  of  ‘ evil  ’ 
equally  expresses  the  opposition  both  to  virtue  and  to  happiness. 
Evil  actions  and  evil  fortune  are  equally  called  evil,  which  clearly 
indicates  the  inner  kinship  between  the  good  and  blessedness  ; 
and  indeed  these  two  ideas  are  often  identified  in  ordinary  speech, 
one  term  being  substituted  for  the  other.  The  separation  between 
moral  good  and  happiness  is  then  merely  conditional : the  absolute 
good  involves  also  the  fulness  of  happiness. 

The  ultimate  question  as  to  the  meaning  of  life  is  not  then 
finally  solved  either  by  the  existence  of  good  feelings  inherent  in 
human  nature,  or  by  the  principles  of  right  conduct  which  reason 
deduces  from  the  moral  consciousness  of  these  feelings.  Moral 
sentiments  and  principles  are  a relative  good,  and  they  fail  to  give 
complete  satisfaction.  We  are  compelled  both  by  reason  and  by 
feeling  to  pass  from  them  to  the  good  in  its  absolute  essence,  un- 
conditioned by  anything  accidental  or  by  any  external  limitations, 
and  consequently  giving  real  satisfaction,  and  true  and  complete 
meaning  to  life  as  a whole. 


XIII 

That  the  pure  moral  good  must  finally  be  experienced  as 
blessedness,  that  is,  as  perfect  satisfaction  or  bliss,  was  admitted 
by  the  stern  preacher  of  the  categoric  imperative  himself.  But 
the  method  whereby  he  sought  to  reconcile  these  two  ultimate 
conceptions  can  certainly  not  be  pronounced  satisfactory. 

The  great  German  philosopher  admirably  defined  the  formal 
essence  of  morality  as  the  absolutely  free  or  autonomous  activity 
of  pure  will.  But  he  was  unable  to  avoid  in  the  domain  of 
ethics  the  one-sided  subjective  idealism  which  is  characteristic  of 
his  philosophy  as  a whole.  On  this  basis  there  can  only  be  a 
fictitious  synthesis  of  good  and  happiness,  only  an  illusory  realisa- 
tion of  the  perfect  moral  order. 

Subjectivism,  in  the  crude  and  elementary  sense,  is  of  course 
excluded  by  the  very  conception  of  the  pure  will , of  a will,  that  is, 


154  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

free  from  any  empirical  and  accidental  motives,  and  determined 
only  by  the  idea  of  absolute  duty  ( das  Sollen\  i.e.  by  the  universal 
and  necessary  norm  of  practical  reason.  In  virtue  of  this  norm 
the  moral  principle  of  our  conduct  (and  of  our  every  action) 
must,  without  inner  contradiction,  be  capable  of  being  affirmed 
as  a universal  and  necessary  law,  applicable  to  ourselves  in  exactly 
the  same  way  as  to  everybody  else. 

This  formula  is  in  itself  [i.e.  logically)  perfectly  objective  ; but 
wherein  does  its  real  power  lie  ? Insisting  upon  the  unconditional 
character  of  the  moral  demand,  Kant  answers  only  for  the 
possibility  of  fulfilling  it  : you  must,  therefore  you  can.  But  the 
possibility  by  no  means  warrants  the  actuality,  and  the  perfect 
moral  order  may  remain  altogether  unrealised.  Nor  is  it  clear 
from  the  Kantian  point  of  view  what  is  the  ultimate  inner  founda- 
tion of  the  moral  demand  itself.  In  order  that  our  will  should  be 
pure  or  (formally)  autonomous  it  must  be  determined  solely  by 
respect  for  the  moral  law — this  is  as  clear  as  A = A.  But  why 
should  this  A be  necessary  at  all  ? Why  demand  a c pure  ’ will  ? 
If  I want  to  get  pure  hydrogen  out  of  water,  I must  of  course 
take  away  the  oxygen.  If,  however,  I want  to  wash  or  to  drink 
I do  not  need  pure  hydrogen,  but  require  a definite  combination 
of  it  with  oxygen,  H20,  called  water. 

Kant  must  undoubtedly  be  recognised  as  the  Lavoisier  of  moral 
philosophy.  His  analysis  of  morality  into  the  autonomous  and  the 
heteronomous  elements,  and  his  formulation  of  the  moral  law,  is 
one  of  the  greatest  achievements  of  the  human  mind.  But  we 
cannot  rest  satisfied  with  the  theoretical  intellectual  interest  alone. 
Kant  speaks  of  practical  reason  as  the  unconditional  principle  of 
actual  human  conduct,  and  in  doing  so  he  resembles  a scientist 
who  would  demand  or  think  it  possible  that  men  should  use  pure 
hydrogen  instead  of  water. 

Kant  finds  in  conscience  the  actual  foundation  of  his  moral 
point  of  view.  Conscience  is  certainly  more  than  a demand — it 
is  a fact.  But  in  spite  of  the  philosopher’s  sincere  reverence  for 
this  testimony  of  our  higher  nature,  it  lends  him  no  help.  In  the 
first  place,  the  voice  of  conscience  says  not  exactly  what  according 
to  Kant  it  ought  to  say,  and  secondly,  the  objective  significance 
of  that  voice  remains,  in  spite  of  all,  problematic  from  the  point 
of  view  of  our  philosopher. 


THE  UNITY  OF  MORAL  PRINCIPLES  155 


Kant,  it  will  be  remembered,  pronounces  all  motives  other  than 
pure  reverence  for  the  moral  law  to  be  foreign  to  true  morality.  This 
is  unquestionably  true  of  motives  of  selfish  gain,  which  induce  us 
to  do  good  for  our  own  advantage.  According  to  Kant,  however, 
a man  who  helps  his  neighbour  in  distress  out  of  a simple  feeling 
of  pity  does  not  manifest  a c pure  ’ will  either,  and  his  action,  too, 
is  devoid  of  moral  worth.  In  this  case  Kant  is  again  right  from 
the  point  of  view  of  his  moral  chemistry  ; but  the  supreme  court 
of  appeal  to  which  he  himself  refers — conscience — does  not  adopt 
this  point  of  view.  It  is  only  as  a joke  that  one  can  imagine — 
as  Schiller  does  in  his  well  - known  epigram  — a man  whose 
conscience  reproaches  him  for  pitying  his  neighbours  and  helping 
them  with  heartfelt  compassion  : 

“ Willingly  serve  I my  friends,  but  I do  it,  alas,  with  affection, 

Hence  I am  plagued  with  the  doubt,  virtue  I have  not  attained.” 

“ This  is  your  only  resource,  you  must  stubbornly  seek  to  abhor  them, 
Then  you  can  do  with  disgust  that  which  the  law  may  enjoin.” 

In  truth,  conscience  simply  demands  that  we  should  stand  in 
the  right  relation  to  everything,  but  it  says  nothing  as  to  whether 
this  right  relation  should  take  the  form  of  an  abstract  conscious- 
ness of  general  principles,  or  directly  express  itself  as  an  immediate 
feeling,  or — what  is  best — should  unite  both  these  aspects.  This 
is  the  question  as  to  the  degrees  and  forms  of  moral  development 
and,  though  very  important  in  itself,  it  has  no  decisive  significance 
for  the  general  valuation  of  the  moral  character  of  human  conduct. 

Apart,  however,  from  the  circumstance  that  Kant’s  ethical 
demands  are  at  variance  with  the  deliverances  of  conscience 
to  which  he  appeals,  it  may  well  be  asked  what  significance  can 
attach  to  the  very  fact  of  conscience  from  the  point  of  view  of 
c transcendental  idealism.’  The  voice  of  conscience  bearing  witness 
to  the  moral  order  of  the  universe  filled  Kant’s  soul  with  awe. 
He  was  inspired  with  the  same  awe,  he  tells  us,  at  the  sight  of  the 
starry  heaven.  But  what  is  the  starry  heaven  from  Kant’s  point  of 
view  ? It  may  have  had  some  reality  for  the  author  of  The  Natural 
History  and  Theory  of  the  Heavens ,x  but  the  author  of  the  Critique  of 
Pure  Reason  has  dispelled  the  delusions  of  simple-hearted  realism. 
The  starry  heaven,  like  the  rest  of  the  universe,  is  merelya  presenta- 

1 The  chief  work  of  Kant’s  pre-critical  period. 


156  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


tion,  an  appearance  in  our  consciousness.  Though  due  to  an 
unknown  action  upon  us  of  something  independent  of  us,  the 
phenomenon  as  actually  presented  has  nothing  to  do  with  those 
utterly  mysterious  entities,  and  does  not  in  any  way  express  the  true 
nature  of  things  : it  entirely  depends  upon  the  forms  of  our  sensuous 
intuition  and  the  power  of  our  imagination  acting  in  accordance 
with  the  categories  of  our  understanding.  And  if  Kant  felt  awe- 
struck at  the  grandeur  of  the  starry  heaven,  the  true  object  of 
that  feeling  could  only  be  the  grandeur  of  human  intellect,  or, 
rather,  of  intellectual  activity,  which  creates  the  order  of  the 
universe  in  order  to  cognise  it. 

Kant’s  ‘ idealism  ’ deprives  the  mental  as  well  as  the  visible 
world  of  its  reality.  In  his  criticism  of  Rational  Psychology  he 
proves  that  the  soul  has  no  existence  on  its  own  account,  that  in 
truth  all  that  exists  is  the  complex  totality  of  the  phenomena  of  the 
inner  sense,  which  are  no  more  real  than  the  events  of  the  so-called 
external  world.  The  connection  between  the  inner  (as  between 
the  ‘outer’)  phenomena  is  not  due  to  the  fact  that  they  are  ex- 
perienced by  one  and  the  same  being,  who  suffers  and  acts  in  and 
through  them.  The  connectedness  or  the  unity  of  the  mental  life 
depends  entirely  upon  certain  laws  or  general  correlations  which  form 
the  definite  order  or  the  working  mechanism  of  psychical  events. 

If  we  do  happen  to  find  in  this  mechanism  an  important  spring 
called  conscience,  this  phenomenon,  however  peculiar  it  may  be, 
takes  us  as  little  beyond  the  range  of  subjective  ideas  as  does  the  ring 
of  Saturn,  unique  of  its  kind,  which  we  observe  through  the 
telescope. 

XIV 

Kant  suffered  from  his  subjectivism  in  moral  philosophy  quite 
as  much  as  he  prided  himself  on  it  in  theoretical  philosophy  ; and 
he  was  well  aware  that  the  fact  of  conscience  is  not  in  itself  a way 
of  escape.  If  conscience  is  merely  a psychological  phenomenon, 
it  can  have  no  compelling  force.  And  if  it  is  something  more, 
then  the  moral  law  has  its  foundation  not  in  us  only,  but  also 
independently  of  us.  In  other  words,  this  unconditional  law 
presupposes  an  absolute  lawgiver. 

At  the  same  time  Kant,  who  in  spite  of  the  influence  of 


THE  UNITY  OF  MORAL  PRINCIPLES  157 

Rousseau  had  none  of  the  moral  optimism  of  the  latter,  clearly  saw 
the  gulf  between  what  ought  to  be  according  to  the  unconditional 
moral  law  and  what  is  in  reality.  He  well  understood  that  the 
gulf  cannot  be  bridged,  the  good  cannot  completely  triumph,  the 
ideal  cannot  be  perfectly  realised  in  the  conditions  of  the  given 
empirical  existence  or  of  the  mortal  life.  And  so  he  ‘ postulated  ’ 
the  immortality  of  the  soul — of  that  very  soul  the  existence  of 
which  he  disproved  in  the  Critique  of  Pure  Reason. 

Thus,  notwithstanding  his  critical  philosophy,  Kant  wanted  to 
find  God  behind  the  starry  heaven  above  us, — and  behind  the 
voice  of  conscience  in  us  an  immortal  soul  in  the  image  and 
likeness  of  God, 

He  called  these  ideas  postulates  of  practical  reason  and  objects  of 
rational  faith P But  there  is  no  faith  about  it,  for  faith  cannot  be 
a deduction,  and  there  is  not  much  rationality  either,  for  the 
whole  argument  moves  in  a vicious  circle  : God  and  immortalitv 
of  the  soul  are  deduced  from  morality,  while  morality  itself 
depends  upon  God  and  the  immortal  soul. 

No  certainty  can  attach,  from  Kant’s  point  of  view,  to  these 
two  metaphysical  ideas  themselves,  but  they  must  be  admitted  as 
valid  truths,  since  the  reality  of  the  moral  law  demands  the  reality 
of  God  and  immortality.  Every  sceptic  or  ‘critical  philosopher’ 
has,  however,  a perfect  right  to  turn  this  argument  against  Kant. 
Since  pure  morality  can  only  be  based  upon  the  existence  of  God 
and  of  an  immortal  soul,  and  the  certainty  of  these  ideas  cannot  be 
proved,  pure  morality  dependent  upon  these  ideas  cannot  be 
proved  either,  and  must  remain  a mere  supposition. 

If  the  moral  law  has  absolute  significance,  it  must  rest  upon 
itself  and  stand  in  no  need  of  ‘ postulates,’  the  object  of  which 
has  been  so  systematically  put  to  shame  in  the  Critique  of  Pure 
Reason.  But  if,  in  order  to  have  real  force,  the  moral  law  must 
be  based  upon  something  other  than  itself,  its  foundations  must  be 
independent  of  it  and  possess  certainty  on  their  own  account. 
The  moral  law  cannot  possibly  be  based  upon  things  which  have 
their  ground  in  it. 

Kant  rightly  insisted  that  morality  is  autonomous.  This 
great  discovery,  connected  with  his  name,  will  not  be  lost  for 

1 I confine  myself  here  to  these  two  postulates  only,  for  the  question  of  the  freedom 
of  will  belongs  to  a different  order  of  ideas. 


158  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

humanity.  Morality  is  autonomous  precisely  because  its  essence 
is  not  an  abstract  formula  hanging  in  the  air,  but  contains  in 
itself  all  the  conditions  of  its  realisation.  The  necessary  presup- 
position of  morality,  namely,  the  existence  of  God  and  of  an 
immortal  soul,  is  not  a demand  for  something  extraneous  to 
morality  and  additional  to  it,  but  is  its  own  inner  basis.  God 
and  the  soul  are  not  the  postulates  of  the  moral  law,  but  the  direct 
creative  forces  of  the  moral  reality. 

The  fact  that  the  good  is  not  finally  and  universally  realised 
for  us,  that  virtue  is  not  always  effective  and  never , in  our 
empirical  life,  wholly  effective,  does  not  disprove  the  fact  that  the 
good  exists  and  that  the  measure  of  good  in  humanity  is,  on  the 
whole,  on  the  increase.  It  is  not  increasing  in  the  sense  that 
individual  persons  are  becoming  more  virtuous  or  that  there  is  a 
greater  number  of  virtuous  people,  but  in  the  sense  that  the 
average  level  of  the  universally  binding  moral  demands  that  are 
fulfilled  is  gradually  raised.  This  is  a historical  fact,  against  which 
one  cannot  honestly  argue.  What  then  is  the  source  of  this  in- 
crease of  good  in  humanity  as  a collective  whole,  independently  of 
the  moral  state  of  human  units  taken  separately  ? We  know  that 
the  growth  of  a physical  organism  is  due  to  the  superabundance 
of  nourishment  which  it  receives  from  its  actual  physico-organic 
environment,  the  existence  of  which  precedes  its  own.  In  a 
similar  way,  moral  growth,  which  cannot  logically  be  explained  by 
the  physical  (for  such  explanation  would  in  the  long  run  mean 
deducing  the  greater  from  the  lesser,  or  something  from  nothing, 
which  is  absurd),  can  also  only  be  explained  by  a superabundance 
of  nourishment,  that  is,  by  the  general  positive  effect  of  the  actual 
moral  or  spiritual  environment.  In  addition  to  the  inconstant 
and,  for  the  most  part,  doubtful  growth  of  separate  human  beings, 
traceable  to  the  educative  effect  of  the  social  environment,  there 
is  a constant  and  undoubtful  spiritual  growth  of  humanity,  or  of 
the  social  environment  itself — and  this  is  the  whole  meaning  of 
history.  To  account  for  this  fact  we  must  recognise  the  reality 
of  a superhuman  environment  which  spiritually  nourishes  the 
collective  life  of  humanity  and,  by  the  superabundance  of  this 
nourishment,  conditions  its  moral  progress.  And  if  the  reality 
of  the  superhuman  good  must  be  admitted,  there  is  no  reason  to 
deny  its  effect  upon  the  individual  moral  life  of  man.  It  is  clear 


THE  UNITY  OF  MORAL  PRINCIPLES  159 

that  this  higher  influence  extends  to  everything  capable  of  receiv- 
ing it.  The  effect  of  the  social  environment  must  not,  however, 
be  regarded  as  the  source,  but  only  as  one  of  the  necessary  con- 
ditions of  the  moral  life  of  the  individual.  If  moral  life,  both 
collective  and  personal,  be  understood  as  the  interaction  between 
man  (and  humanity)  and  the  perfect,  superhuman  good,  it  cannot 
belong  to  the  sphere  of  the  trans/itory  material  events.  In  other 
words,  both  the  individual  and  the  collective  soul  must  be  im- 
mortal. Immortality  does  not  necessarily  presuppose  the  soul  as 
an  independent  substance.  Each  soul  can  be  conceived  as  one 
of  a number  of  inseparably  connected,  constant  and  therefore 
immortal  relations  of  the  Deity  to  some  universal  substratum  of 
the  life  of  the  world,  a closer  definition  of  which  does  not  directly 
belong  to  the  scope  of  moral  philosophy.  We  know  nothing  as 
yet — i.e.  before  a theoretical  inquiry  into  metaphysical  questions — 
about  the  substantiality  of  the  soul  or  the  substantiality  of  God  ; 
but  one  thing  we  know  with  certainty:  ‘As  the  Lord  liveth,  my 
soul  liveth.’  If  we  give  up  this  fundamental  truth  we  cease  to 
understand  and  to  affirm  ourselves  as  moral  beings,  that  is,  we 
give  up  the  very  meaning  of  our  life. 


CHAPTER  II 


THE  UNCONDITIONAL  PRINCIPLE  OF  MORALITY 

I 

Neither  the  natural  inclination  to  the  good  in  individual  men, 
nor  the  rational  consciousness  of  duty,  are  in  themselves  sufficient 
for  the  realisation  of  the  good.  But  our  moral  nature  contains 
an  element  of  something  greater  than  itself. 

Even  the  first  two  foundations  of  morality — shame  and  pity — 
cannot  be  reduced  either  to  a certain  mental  condition  of  this  or  that 
person,  or  to  a universal  rational  demand  of  duty.  When  a man 
is  ashamed  of  desires  and  actions  that  spring  from  his  material 
nature,  he  does  more  than  express  thereby  his  personal  opinion  or 
the  state  of  his  mind  at  the  given  moment.  He  actually  apprehends 
a certain  reality  independent  of  his  opinions  or  accidental  moods — 
the  reality,  namely,  of  the  spiritual,  supermaterial  essence  of  man. 
In  the  feeling  of  shame  the  fundamental  material  inclinations  are 
rejected  by  us  as  foreign  and  hostile  to  us.  It  is  clear  that  the 
person  who  rejects  and  the  thing  which  is  rejected  cannot  be 
identical.  The  man  who  is  ashamed  of  a material  fact  cannot 
himself  be  a mere  material  fact.  A material  fact  that  is  ashamed 
of  and  rejects  itself,  that  judges  itself  and  acknowledges  itself  un- 
worthy, is  an  absurdity  and  is  logically  impossible. 

The  feeling  of  shame  which  is  the  basis  of  our  right  relation 
to  the  material  nature  is  something  more  than  a simple  psychical 
fact.  It  is  a self-evident  revelation  of  a certain  universal  truth, — 
of  the  truth,  namely,  that  man  has  a spiritual  supermaterial  nature. 
In  shame,  and  in  ascetic  morality  founded  upon  it,  this  spiritual 
essence  of  man  manifests  itself  not  only  as  a possibility  but  also  as 
an  actuality , not  as  a demand  only  but  also  as  a certain  reality. 

160 


UNCONDITIONAL  PRINCIPLE  OF  MORALITY  161 


Men  whose  spirit  dominates  their  material  nature  have  actually 
existed  in  the  past  and  exist  now.  The  fact  that  they  are  com- 
paratively few  in  number  simply  proves  that  the  moral  demand  has 
not  yet  been  fully  and  finally  realised  ; it  does  not  prove  that  it 
is  not  realised  at  all  and  remains  a mere  demand.  It  cannot  be 
said  that  the  moral  principle  of  shame  is  lacking  in  actuality,  or, 
what  is  the  same  thing,  in  actual  perfection. 

In  a similar  manner,  the  feeling  of  pity  or  compassion  which  is 
the  basis  of  man’s  right  relation  to  his  fellow-beings  expresses  not 
merely  the  mental  condition  of  a given  person,  but  also  a certain 
universal  objective  truth,  namely,  the  unity  of  nature  or  the  real 
solidarity  of  all  beings.  If  they  were  alien  and  external  to  one 
another,  one  being  could  not  put  himself  into  the  place  of  another, 
could  not  transfer  the  sufferings  of  others  to  himself  or  feel 
together  with  others  ; for  compassion  is  an  actual  and  not  an 
imagined  state,  not  an  abstract  idea.  The  bond  of  sympathy 
between  separate  beings,  which  finds  expression  in  the  funda- 
mental feeling  of  pity  and  is  developed  in  the  morality  of  altruism, 
is  not  merely  a demand,  but  a beginning  of  realisation.  This  is 
proved  by  the  solidarity  of  human  beings,  which  exists  as  a fact,  and 
increases  throughout  the  historical  development  of  society.  The 
defect  of  the  social  morality  is  not  that  it  is  not  realised  at  all,  but 
that  it  is  not  fully  and  perfectly  realised.  The  feeling  of  shame 
gives  us  no  theoretical  conception  of  the  spiritual  principle  in  man, 
but  indubitably  proves  the  existence  of  that  principle.  The  feeling 
of  pity  tells  us  nothing  definite  about  the  metaphysical  nature  of 
the  universal  unity,  but  concretely  indicates  the  existence  of  a certain 
fundamental  connection  between  distinct  entities,  prior  to  all  ex- 
perience. And  although  these  entities  are  empirically  separate  from 
one  another,  they  become  more  and  more  united  in  the  empirical 
reality  itself. 


II 

In  the  two  moral  spheres  indicated  by  shame  and  pity,  the  good 
is  already  known  as  truth,  and  is  realised  in  fact,  but  as  yet  im- 
perfectly. In  the  third  sphere  of  moral  relations,  determined  by 
the  religious  feeling  or  reverence,  the  true  object  of  that  feeling 
reveals  itself  as  the  highest  or  perfect  good,  wholly  and  absolutely 

M 


1 62  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

realised  from  all  eternity.  The  inner  basis  of  religion  involves 
more  than  a mere  recognition  of  our  dependence  upon  a power 
immeasurably  greater  than  we.  Religious  consciousness  in  its  pure 
form  is  a joyous  feeling  that  there  is  a Being  infinitely  better  than 
ourselves,  and  that  our  life  and  destiny,  like  everything  that  exists, 
is  dependent  upon  It — not  upon  an  irrational  fate,  but  upon  the 
actual  and  perfect  Good,  the  One  which  embraces  all. 

In  true  religious  experience  the  reality  of  that  which  is  ex- 
perienced is  immediately  given  ; we  are  directly  conscious  of  the 
real  presence  of  the  Deity,  and  feel  Its  effect  upon  us.  Abstract 
arguments  can  have  no  force  against  actual  experience.  When 
a man  is  ashamed  of  his  animal  desires,  it  is  impossible  to  prove 
to  him  that  he  is  a mere  animal.  In  the  very  fact  of  shame  he  is 
aware  of  himself  as  being,  and  proves  himself  to  be,  more  and 
higher  than  an  animal.  When  in  the  feeling  of  pity  we  are 
affected  by  the  sufferings  of  another  person,  and  are  conscious  of 
him  as  of  a fellow-being,  no  force  can  attach  to  the  theoretical 
argument  that  perhaps  that  other,  for  whom  my  heart  aches,  is 
only  my  presentation,  devoid  of  all  independent  reality.  If  I am 
conscious  of  the  inner  connection  between  myself  and  another, 
that  consciousness  testifies  to  the  actual  existence  of  the  other  no 
less  than  to  my  own.  This  conclusion  holds  good  of  the  religious 
feeling  as  well  as  of  pity  and  compassion.  The  only  difference  is 
that  the  object  of  the  former  is  experienced  not  as  equal  to  us  but 
as  absolutely  superior,  all-embracing,  and  perfect.  It  is  impossible 
that  a creature  which  excites  in  me  a living  feeling  of  compassion 
should  not  actually  live  and  suffer.  It  is  still  more  impossible 
that  the  highest,  that  which  inspires  us  with  reverence  and  fills 
our  soul  with  unutterable  bliss,  should  not  exist  at  all.  We 
cannot  doubt  the  reality  of  that  which  perceptibly  affects  us,  and 
whose  effect  upon  us  is  given  in  the  very  fact  of  the  experience. 
The  circumstance  that  I do  not  always  have  the  experience,  and 
that  other  people  do  not  have  it  at  all,  no  more  disproves  its 
reality  and  the  reality  of  its  object  than  the  fact  of  my  not  seeing 
the  sun  at  night,  and  of  persons  born  blind  never  seeing  it  at  all, 
disproves  the  existence  of  the  sun  and  of  vision.  Moreover, 
many  people  have  a wrong  conception  of  the  sun,  taking  it  to  be 
small  and  to  move  round  the  earth,  and  this,  indeed,  was  the 
universal  belief  in  former  days.  But  neither  the  existence  of  the 


UNCONDITIONAL  PRINCIPLE  OF  MORALITY  163 

sun  nor  my  certainty  of  its  existence  are  in  the  least  affected 
by  this  fact.  In  the  same  way,  theological  errors  and  con- 
tradictions do  not  in  any  way  touch  upon  the  real  object  of 
religion.  Theological  systems,  like  the  astronomical  ones,  are 
the  work  of  human  intellect,  and  depend  upon  the  degree  of 
its  development  and  the  amount  of  positive  knowledge.  Correct 
theology,  like  correct  astronomy,  is  important  and  necessary  ; but 
it  is  not  a thing  of  the  first  importance.  The  epicycles  of  the 
Alexandrian  astronomers  and  the  division  of  the  solar  system  accord- 
ing to  the  theory  of  Tycho  Brahe  did  not  prevent  any  one  from 
enjoying  the  light  and  the  warmth  of  the  sun  ; and  when  these 
astronomers  were  proved  to  be  in  error,  no  one  was  led  thereby  to 
doubt  the  actual  existence  of  the  sun  and  the  planets.  In  the 
same  way  the  most  false  and  absurd  theological  doctrine  cannot 
prevent  any  one  from  experiencing  the  Deity,  nor  cause  any 
doubt  as  to  the  reality  of  what  is  given  in  experience. 

Abstract  theoretical  doubts  had  arisen  in  the  past  and  still 
arise,  not  only  with  regard  to  the  existence  of  God,  but  to  all 
other  existence.  No  one  at  all  familiar  with  philosophical  specula- 
tion can  imagine  that  the  existence  of  the  physical  world,  or  even 
of  our  neighbours,  is  self-evident  to  the  intellect.  A doubt  of  that 
existence  is  the  first  foundation  of  all  speculative  philosophy 
worthy  of  the  name.  These  theoretical  doubts  are  disposed  of  in 
one  way  or  another  by  means  of  various  epistemological  and  meta- 
physical theories.  But  however  interesting  and  important  these 
theories  may  be,  they  have  no  direct  bearing  upon  life  and 
practice.  Such  direct  significance  attaches  to  moral  philosophy, 
which  is  concerned  with  the  actual  data  of  our  spiritual  nature  and 
the  guiding  practical  truths  which  logically  follow  from  them. 

The  parallelism  between  spiritual  and  physical  blindness  is 
also  borne  out  by  the  following  consideration.  It  is  well  known 
that  people  blind  from  birth  are  perfectly  sound  in  other  respects, 
and  have  indeed  an  advantage  over  the  persons  with  normal  sight 
in  that  their  other  senses — hearing,  touch — are  better  developed. 
In  a similar  way  persons  lacking  in  receptivity  to  the  divine 
light  are  perfectly  normal  in  all  other  respects,  both  practical 
and  theoretical,  and,  indeed,  they  generally  prove  superior  to 
others  in  their  capacity  for  business  and  for  learning.  It  is 
natural  that  a person  who  is  particularly  drawn  to  the  absolute 


1 64  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


centre  of  the  universe  cann'ot  pay  equal  attention  to  objects  that 
are  relative.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  therefore,  that  in  the 
special,  worldly  tasks  of  humanity,  a great  share  of  work  and  of 
success  falls  to  the  men  for  whom  the  higher  world  is  closed. 
Such  ‘division  of  labour’  is  natural,  and  it  provides  a certain 
teleological  explanation  of  atheism  which  must  serve  some 
positive  good  purpose  on  the  whole,  whatever  its  negative  causes 
in  each  particular  case  may  be.  If  the  work  of  history  is 
necessary,  if  the  union  of  mankind  is  to  become  a fact, 
if  it  is  necessary  that  at  a given  epoch  men  should  invent 
and  make  all  sorts  of  machines,  dig  the  Suez  Canal,  discover 
unknown  lands,  etc.,  then  it  is  also  necessary  for  the  successful 
performance  of  all  these  tasks  that  some  men  should  not  be 
mystics,  or  even  earnest  believers.  It  is  clear,  of  course,  that  the 
supreme  will  does  not  make  any  one  an  atheist  for  the  sake  of  its 
historical  purposes  ; but  once  the  complex  chain  of  causes, 
finally  confirmed  by  this  or  that  voluntary  decision  of  the  man 
himself,  has  produced  in  a given  case  spiritual  blindness,  it  is  the 
business  of  Providence  to  give  such  a direction  to  this  ‘ill’  that 
it  too  should  be  not  wholly  devoid  of  ‘good’ — that  a subjective 
wrong  should  have  an  objective  justification. 

Ill 

The  reality  of  the  Deity  is  not  a deduction  from  religious 
experience  but  the  content  of  it — that  which  is  experienced.  If 
this  immediate  reality  of  the  higher  principle  be  taken  away, 
there  would  be  nothing  left  of  religious  experience.  It  would 
no  longer  exist.  But  it  does  exist,  and  therefore  that  which  is 
given  and  experienced  in  it  exists  also.  God  is  in  us , therefore 
He  is. 

However  complete  the  feeling  of  our  inner  unity  with  God 
may  be,  it  never  becomes  a consciousness  of  mere  identity,  of 
simple  merging  into  one.  The  feeling  of  unity  is  inseparably 
connected  with  the  consciousness  that  the  Deity  with  which  we 
are  united,  and  which  acts  and  reveals  itself  in  us,  is  something 
distinct  and  independent  of  us — that  it  is  prior  to  us,  higher  and 
greater  than  we.  God  exists  on  His  own  account.  That  which 
is  experienced  is  logically  prior  to  any  given  experience.  The 


UNCONDITIONAL  PRINCIPLE  OF  MORALITY  165 


actuality  of  an  object  does  not  depend  upon  the  particular  way 
in  which  it  acts.  When  one  has  to  say  to  a person  ‘ there  is  no 
God  in  youj  every  one  understands  that  this  is  not  a denial  of  the 
Deity,  but  merely  a recognition  of  the  moral  worthlessness  of  the 
person  in  whom  there  is  no  room  for  God,  i.e.  no  inner 
receptivity  to  the  action  of  God.  And  this  conclusion  would 
stand  even  if  we  had  to  admit  that  all  men  were  thus 
impenetrable  to  the  Deity. 

My  compassion  for  another  person  does  not  in  the  least 
imply  that  I am  identical  with  that  other.  It  simply  means  that 
I am  of  the  same  nature  as  he  is  and  that  there  is  a bond  of 
union  between  us.  In  the  same  way,  the  religious  experience 
of  God  in  us  or  of  ourselves  in  God  by  no  means  implies  that 
He  is  identical  with  us,  but  simply  proves  our  inner  relationship 
to  Him — cfor  we  are  also  His  offspring.’  The  relation  is  not 
brotherly,  as  with  our  fellow-beings,  but  filial — it  is  not  the  bond 
of  equality,  but  the  bond  of  dependence.  The  dependence  is  not 
external  or  accidental,  but  inward  and  essential.  True  religious 
feeling  regards  the  Deity  as  the  fulness  of  all  the  conditions  of 
our  life  — as  that  without  which  life  would  be  senseless  and 
impossible  for  us,  as  the  first  beginning , as  the  true  medium , and  as 
the  final  end  of  existence.  Since  everything  is  already  contained 
in  God  we  can  add  nothing  to  Him  from  ourselves,  no  new 
content  ; we  cannot  make  the  absolute  perfection  more  perfect. 
But  we  can  partake  of  it  more  and  more,  be  united  with  it  more 
and  more  closely.  Thus  our  relation  to  the  Deity  is  that  of 
form  to  content. 

A further  analysis  of  what  in  religious  feeling  is  given  as  a 
living  experience  of  the  reality  of  Godhead  shows  that  we  stand 
in  a threefold  relation  to  this  perfect  reality,  this  absolute  or 
supreme  good.  (1)  We  are  conscious  of  our  difference  from  it  ; 
and  since  it  contains  the  fulness  of  perfection,  we  can  only  differ 
from  it  by  negative  qualities  or  determinations — by  our  im- 
perfection, impotence,  wickedness,  suffering.  In  this  respect 
we  are  the  opposite  of  the  Deity,  its  negative  other  ; this  is  the 
lower  earthly  principle  out  of  which  man  is  created  (his  v\ rj  or 
causa  materialist  that  which  is  called  in  the  Bible  ‘the  dust  of 
the  ground  ’ (gaphar  haadam).  (2)  But  although  we  are  nothing 
but  a complex  of  all  possible  imperfections,  we  are  conscious  of 


1 66  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

the  absolute  perfection  as  of  that  which  truly  is,  and  in  this 
consciousness  are  ideally  united  to  it,  reflect  it  in  ourselves. 
This  idea  of  the  all-embracing  perfection  as  the  informing 
principle  of  our  life  («rSos,  causa  formalis)  is,  in  the  words  of  the 
Bible,  ‘ the  image  of  God  ’ in  us  (or,  more  exactly,  ‘ the  reflection’ : 
zelem  from  z <?/,  ‘shadow’).  (3)  In  God  the  ideal  perfection  is 
fully  realised  ; hence  we  are  not  content  with  being  conscious 
of  Him  as  an  idea,  or  in  reflecting  Him  in  ourselves,  but  want, 
like  God,  to  be  actually  perfect.  And  since  our  empirical 
existence  is  opposed  to  this,  we  seek  to  transform,  to  perfect 
our  bad  reality,  and  to  assimilate  it  to  the  absolute  ideal. 
Thus  although  in  our  given  (or  inherited)  condition  we  are 
opposed  to  the  Deity,  we  approximate  to  It  in  that  towards 
which  we  aspire.  The  end  of  our  life,  that  for  the  sake  of 
which  we  exist  (0$  eVcKa,  causa  finalis ),  is  the  ‘likeness  of  God’ 
(d'mut). 

The  religious  attitude  necessarily  involves  discriminating  and 
comparing.  We  can  stand  in  a religious  relation  to  the  higher 
only  if  we  are  aware  of  it  as  such,  only  if  we  are  conscious  of  its 
superiority  to  us,  and  consequently  of  our  own  unworthiness. 
But  we  cannot  be  conscious  of  our  unworthiness  or  imperfection 
unless  we  have  an  idea  of  its  opposite— i.e.  an  idea  of  perfection. 
Further,  the  consciousness  of  our  own  imperfection  and  of  the 
divine  perfection  cannot,  if  it  be  genuine,  stop  at  this  opposition. 
It  necessarily  results  in  a desire  to  banish  it  by  making  our 
reality  conform  to  the  highest  ideal,  that  is,  to  the  image  and 
likeness  of  God.  Thus  the  religious  attitude  as  a whole  logically 
involves  three  moral  categories  : (1)  imperfection  (in  us)  ; (2) 
perfection  (in  God)  ; and  (3)  the  process  of  becoming  perfect  or 
of  establishing  a harmony  between  the  first  and  the  second  as  the 
task  of  our  life. 


IV 

The  logical  analysis  of  the  religious  attitude  into  its  three 
component  elements  finds  confirmation  both  from  the  psycho- 
logical and  the  formally  moral  point  of  view. 

Psychologically,  i.e.  as  a subjective  state,  the  typical  religious 
attitude  finds  expression  in  the  feeling  of  reverence,  or,  more 


UNCONDITIONAL  PRINCIPLE  OF  MORALITY  167 

exactly,  of  reverent  love.1  This  feeling  necessarily  involves  (1)  self- 
depreciation on  the  part  of  the  person  who  experiences  it,  or  his 
disapproval  of  himself  as  he  actually  is  at  the  present  moment ; (2) 
positive  awareness  of  the  higher  ideal  as  of  a reality  of  a different 
order,  as  of  that  which  truly  is — since  to  feel  reverence  for  what 
one  knows  to  be  an  invention  or  an  image  of  fancy  is  psychologic- 
ally impossible  ; (3)  a striving  to  work  a real  change  in  oneself,  and 
to  draw  nearer  to  the  highest  perfection.  Apart  from  this  striving 
the  religious  feeling  becomes  an  abstract  idea.  On  the  contrary, 
real  striving  towards  God  is  the  beginning  of  union  with  Him. 
By  experiencing  His  reality  in  ourselves  we  become  united  to  this 
supreme  reality,  and  make  a beginning — an  inner  and  subjective 
one — of  the  future  complete  union  of  all  the  world  with  God. 
This  is  the  reason  why  the  true  religious  attitude  is  characterised 
by  the  feeling  of  bliss  and  enthusiasm,  which  the  Apostle  calls 
“the  earnest  of  the  Spirit  in  our  hearts”  and  “joy  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.”  It  is  the  prophetic  spirit  anticipating  our  complete  and 
final  union  with  the  Deity  : the  union  is  not  yet  attained  but  it 
has  begun,  and  we  have  a foretaste  of  the  joy  of  fulfilment. 

From  the  formally  moral  point  of  view,  the  consciousness 
(involved  in  the  religious  feeling)  that  the  supreme  ideal  actually 
exists  and  that  we  are  out  of  harmony  with  it  compels  us  to  become 
more  perfect.  That  which  excites  our  reverence,  affirms  thereby 
its  right  to  our  devotion.  And  if  we  are  conscious  of  the  actual 
and  absolute  superiority  of  the  Deity  over  ourselves,  our  devotion 
to  it  must  be  real  and  unlimited,  i.e.  it  must  be  the  unconditional 
rule  of  our  life. 

The  religious  feeling  expressed  in  the  form  of  the  categorical 
imperative  commands  us  not  merely  to  desire  perfection  but  to  be 
perfect.  And  this  means  that,  in  addition  to  having  a good  will, 
being  honest,  well-behaved  and  virtuous,  we  must  be  free  from 
pain,  immortal  and  incorruptible,  and  must,  moreover,  make  all 
our  fellow-beings  morally  perfect  and  free  from  pain,  deathless, 
and  incorruptible  in  their  bodies.  For,  indeed,  true  perfection 
must  embrace  the  whole  of  man,  must  include  all  his  reality— and 
of  that  reality  other  beings,  too,  form  part.  If  we  do  not  want 

1 This  subjective  basis  of  religion  is  best  rendered  by  the  German  Ehrfurcht , 
ehrfurchts’vollc  Liebe.  It  may  also  be  called  an  ascending  love,  amor  ascendens.  See 
the  conclusion  of  this  book. 


1 68  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

that,  in  addition  to  moral  perfection,  they  should  be  free  from  pain, 
immortal  and  incorruptible,  we  have  no  pity  for  them,  that  is,  we 
are  inwardly  imperfect.  And  if  we  want  it,  but  cannot  do  it,  we 
are  impotent,  that  is,  our  inner  perfection  is  not  sufficient  to 
manifest  itself  objectively  ; it  is  merely  a subjective,  incomplete 
perfection,  or,  in  other  words,  it  is  imperfection.  In  either  case 
we  have  not  fulfilled  the  demand,  “ Be  ye  perfect.” 

But  what  can  the  demand  mean  ? It  is  clear  that  by  willing 
alone,  however  pure  and  intense  the  will  may  be,  we  cannot  even — 
contrary  to  the  claim  of  ‘mental  healing’ — save  ourselves  or  our 
neighbours  from  toothache  or  gout,  let  alone  raise  the  dead. 

The  imperative  ‘ be  ye  perfect  ’ does  not  refer,  then,  to  separate 
acts  of  will,  but  puts  before  us  a life-long  task.  A simple  act  of 
pure  will  is  necessary  for  accepting  the  task,  but  is  not  in  itself 
sufficient  for  fulfilling  it.  The  process  of  becoming  perfect  is  a 
necessary  means  to  perfection.  Thus  the  unconditional  demand 
‘ be  perfect  ’ means,  in  fact,  ‘ become  perfect .’ 

V 

Perfection,  i.e.  the  completeness  of  good,  or  the  unity  of 
good  and  happiness,  expresses  itself  in  three  ways:  (i)  as  the 
absolutely  real,  eternally  actual  perfection  in  God  ; (2)  as 

potential  perfection  in  human  consciousness  which  contains  the 
absolute  fulness  of  being  in  the  form  of  an  idea,  and  in  human 
will  which  makes  that  fulness  of  being  its  ideal  and  its  norm  ; 
(3)  as  the  actual  realisation  of  perfection  or  as  the  historical  pro- 
cess of  becoming  perfect. 

The  adherents  of  abstract  morality  put  at  this  point  a question, 
the  answer  to  which  they  prejudge  from  the  first.  They  ask 
what  need  is  there  for  this  third  aspect — for  perfection  as  con- 
cretely realised,  for  historical  doing  with  its  political  problems  and 
its  work  of  civilisation.  If  the  light  of  truth  and  a pure  will  is 
within  us,  why  trouble  about  anything  further  ? 

But  the  purpose  of  historical  doing  is  precisely  the  final  justifi- 
cation of  the  good  given  in  our  true  consciousness  and  our  good 
will.  The  historical  process  as  a whole  creates  the  concrete 
conditions  under  which  the  good  may  really  become  common 
property,  and  apart  from  which  it  cannot  be  realised.  The  whole 


UNCONDITIONAL  PRINCIPLE  OF  MORALITY  169 

of  historical  development,  both  of  the  human  and  of  the  physical 
world,  is  the  necessary  means  to  perfection.  No  one  will  argue 
that  a mollusc  or  a sponge  can  know  the  truth,  or  bring  their 
will  into  harmony  with  the  absolute  good.  It  was  necessary 
for  more  and  more  complex  and  refined  organic  forms  to  be 
evolved  until  a form  was  produced  in  which  the  consciousness  of 
perfection  and  the  desire  for  it  could  be  manifested.  This  con- 
sciousness and  desire  contain,  however,  only  the  ■possibility  of 
perfection  ; and  if  man  is  conscious  of  and  desires  that  which  he 
does  not  possess,  it  is  clear  that  the  consciousness  and  the  will 
cannot  be  the  completion , but  are  only  the  beginning  of  his  life 
and  activity.  A speck  of  living  protoplasm,  the  production  of 
which  also  demanded  much  creative  energy,  contains  the  possi- 
bility of  the  human  organism.  But  that  possibility  could  only 
be  realised  through  a long  and  complex  biological  process.  A 
formless  bit  of  organic  matter,  or  an  insufficiently  formed  living 
being  like  a sponge,  a polypus,  a cuttle-fish,  cannot  of  themselves 
produce  man,  though  they  contain  him  potentially.  In  the  same 
way  a formless  horde  of  savages,  or  an  insufficiently  formed 
barbarian  state,  cannot  directly  give  birth  to  the  Kingdom  of  God, 
that  is,  to  the  image  of  the  perfect  unity  of  the  human  and  the 
universal  life — even  though  the  remote  possibility  of  such  unity 
may  be  contained  in  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  the  savages  and 
barbarians. 

Just  as  the  spirit  of  man  in  nature  requires  for  its  concrete 
expression  the  most  perfect  of  physical  organisms,  so  the  spirit  of 
God  in  humanity  or  the  Kingdom  of  God  requires  for  its  actual 
manifestation  the  most  perfect  social  body  which  is  being  slowly 
evolved  through  history.  I11  so  far  as  the  ultimate  constituents  of 
this  historical  process — human  individuals — are  more  capable  of 
conscious  and  free  action  than  the  ultimate  constituents  of  the 
biological  process — the  organic  cells — the  process  of  evolving  the 
collective  universal  body  is  more  conscious  and  voluntary  in 
character  than  the  organic  processes  which  determine  the  evolu- 
tion of  our  corporeal  being.  But  there  is  no  absolute  opposition 
between  the  two.  On  the  one  hand,  rudiments  of  consciousness 
and  will  are  undoubtedly  present  in  all  living  beings,  though 
they  are  not  a decisive  factor  in  the  general  process  of  perfecting 
the  organic  forms.  On  the  other  hand,  the  course  and  the  final 


170  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

outcome  of  universal  history  are  not  exhausted  by  the  conscious 
and  purposive  activity  of  historical  persons.  But  in  any  case,  at 
a certain  level  of  intellectual  and  moral  development  the  human 
individual  must  inevitably  determine  his  own  attitude  with 
regard  to  the  problems  of  history. 

The  significance  of  the  historical,  as  distinct  from  the 
cosmical,  process  lies  in  the  fact  that  the  part  played  in  it  by 
individual  agents  is  always  increasing  in  importance.  And  it  is 
strange  that  at  the  present  day,  when  this  characteristic  fact  of 
history  has  become  sufficiently  clear,  the  assertion  should  be 
made  that  man  must  renounce  all  historical  doing,  and  that  the 
state  of  perfection  for  humanity  and  for  all  the  universe  will 
be  attained  of  itself.  ‘Of  itself’  does  not,  of  course,  in  this 
connection  mean  through  the  play  of  blind  physical  forces 
which  have  neither  the  desire  nor  the  power  to  create  the 
Kingdom  of  God  out  of  themselves.  ‘Of  itself’  here  means  by 
the  immediate  action  of  God.  But  how  are  we  to  explain  from 
this  point  of  view  the  fact  that  hitherto  God  has  never  acted 
immediately  ? If  for  the  realisation  of  the  perfect  life  two 
principles  only  are  necessary — God  and  the  human  soul,  poten- 
tially receptive  of  Him — then  the  Kingdom  of  God  might  have 
been  established  with  the  advent  of  the  first  man.  What  was  the 
need  for  all  these  centuries  and  millenniums  of  human  history  ? 
And  if  this  process  was  necessary  because  the  Kingdom  of  God 
can  as  little  be  revealed  among  wild  cannibals  as  among  wild 
beasts,  if  it  was  necessary  for  humanity  to  work  up  from  the 
brutal  and  formless  condition  of  separateness  to  definite  organisa- 
tion and  unity,  it  is  as  clear  as  day  that  this  process  is  not  yet 
completed.  Historical  doing  is  as  necessary  to-day  as  it  was 
yesterday,  and  will  be  as  necessary  to-morrow,  until  the  conditions 
are  ripe  for  the  actual  and  perfect  realisation  of  the  Kingdom  of 


The  historical  process  is  a long  and  difficult  transition  from 
the  bestial  man  to  the  divine  man.  No  one  can  seriously 
maintain  that  the  last  step  has  already  been  taken,  that  the 
image  and  likeness  of  the  beast  has  been  inwardly  abolished  in 
humanity  and  replaced  by  the  image  and  likeness  of  God,  that 


UNCONDITIONAL  PRINCIPLE  OF  MORALITY  171 

there  is  no  longer  any  historical  task  left  demanding  the 
organised  activity  of  social  groups,  and  that  all  we  have  to  do  is 
to  bear  witness  to  this  fact  and  trouble  no  further.  This  view 
when  expressed  simply  and  directly  is  absurd,  and  yet  it  sums  up 
the  doctrine  so  often  preached  nowadays  of  social  disruption  and 
individual  quietism — a doctrine  which  claims  to  be  the  expression 
of  the  unconditional  principle  of  morality. 

The  unconditional  principle  of  morality  cannot  be  a deception. 
But  it  is  obvious  deception  for  a separate  individual  to  pretend 
that  his  own  impotence  to  realise  the  ideal  of  universal  perfection 
proves  such  realisation  to  be  unnecessary.  The  truth  which,  on 
the  basis  of  genuine  religious  feeling,  our  reason  and  our  con- 
science tell  us  is  this  : — 

I cannot  alone  carry  out  in  practice  all  that  ought  to  be  ; 
I cannot  do  anything  alone.  But,  thank  God,  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  ‘I  alone’;  my  impotence  and  isolation  is  only  a 
subjective  state  which  depends  upon  myself.  Although  in  my 
thoughts  and  my  will  I can  separate  myself  from  everything,  it  is 
mere  self-deception.  Apart  from  these  false  thoughts  and  this 
bad  will  nothing  exists  separately,  everything  is  inwardly  and 
externally  connected. 

I am  not  alone.  With  me  is  God  Almighty  and  the  world — 
that  is,  all  that  is  contained  in  God.  And  if  both  these  exist,  there 
is  positive  interaction  between  them.  The  very  idea  of  Godhead 
implies  that  things  to  which  God  stands  in  a purely  negative 
relation,  or  things  to  which  He  is  unconditionally  opposed, 
cannot  exist  at  all.  But  the  world  does  exist,  therefore  there 
must  be  the  positive  activity  of  God  in  it.  The  world  cannot, 
however,  be  the  end  of  that  activity,  for  it  is  imperfect.  And  if 
it  cannot  be  the  end,  it  must  be  the  means.  It  is  the  system  of 
conditions  for  realising  the  kingdom  of  ends.  That  in  it  which 
is  capable  of  perfection  will  enter  that  kingdom  with  full  rights  ; 
all  the  rest  is  the  material  and  the  means  for  bringing  it  about. 
All  that  exists,  exists  only  in  virtue  of  being  approved  by  God. 
But  God  approves  in  two  ways  : some  things  are  good  as  a 
means  and  others  as  a purpose  and  an  end  ( shabbath ).  Each 
stage  in  the  world  creation  is  approved  of  from  above,  but  the 
Scriptures  distinguish  between  simple  and  enhanced  praise.  Of 
all  things  created  in  the  first  six  days  of  the  world  it  says  that 


172  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

they  are  good  ( tob , /<aAd),  but  only  the  last  creature — man — is 
said  to  be  very  good  ( tob  meod , koA d Ai'av).  In  another  holy 
book  it  is  said  that  the  Divine  Wisdom  looks  after  all  creatures, 
but  that  her  joy  is  in  the  sons  of  man.  In  man’s  consciousness 
and  his  freedom  lies  the  inner  possibility  for  each  human  being 
to  stand  in  an  independent  relation  to  God,  and  therefore  to 
be  His  direct  purpose,  to  be  a citizen  possessed  of  full  rights  in 
the  kingdom  of  ends.  Universal  history  is  the  realisation  of  this 
possibility  for  every  one.  Man  who  takes  part  in  it  attains  to 
actual  perfection  through  his  own  experience,  through  his  inter- 
action with  other  men.  This  perfection  attained  by  himself, 
this  full,  conscious,  and  free  union  with  Godhead,  is  what  God 
wills  for  its  own  sake  — is  an  unconditional  good.  Inner 
freedom,  i.e.  voluntary  and  conscious  preference  of  good  to  evil  in 
everything,  is,  from  the  point  of  view  of  principle,  the  chief 
condition  of  this  perfection  or  of  the  absolute  good  ( tob  meod). 

Man  is  dear  to  God,  not  as  a passive  instrument  of  His  will — 
there  are  enough  of  such  instruments  to  be  found  in  the  physical 
world — but  as  a voluntary  ally  and  participator  in  His  work  in 
the  universe.  This  participation  of  man  must  necessarily  be 
included  in  the  very  purpose  of  God’s  activity  in  the  world. 
Were  this  purpose  thinkable  apart  from  human  activity,  it  would 
have  been  attained  from  all  eternity,  for  in  God  Himself  there  can 
be  no  process  of  becoming  perfect,  but  only  an  eternal  and  un- 
changeable fulness  of  all  that  is  good.  Just  as  it  is  unthinkable 
for  an  absolute  being  to  increase  in  goodness  or  perfection,  so  it 
is  unthinkable  for  man  to  attain  perfection  at  once,  apart  from 
the  process  of  becoming  perfect.  Perfection  is  not  a thing  which 
one  person  can  make  a gift  of  to  another  ; it  is  an  inner  condition 
attainable  through  one’s  own  experience  alone.  No  doubt  perfec- 
tion, like  every  positive  content  of  life,  is  received  by  man  from 
God.  But  in  order  to  be  capable  of  receiving  it,  in  order  to 
become  a receptive  form  for  the  divine  content  (and  it  is  in  this 
alone  that  human  perfection  consists),  it  is  necessary  that  man 
should  through  actual  experience  get  rid  of  and  be  purged  of  all 
that  is  incompatible  with  this  perfect  state.  For  mankind  as  a 
whole  this  is  attained  through  the  historical  process,  by  means  of 
which  God’s  will  is  realised  in  the  world. 

This  will  reveals  itself  to  the  individual — not  of  course  as  he 


UNCONDITIONAL  PRINCIPLE  OF  MORALITY  173 

is  in  his  false  separateness,  but  as  he  truly  is.  And  man’s  true 
nature  consists  not  in  separating  himself  from  all  else,  but  in 
being  together  with  all  that  is. 

VII 

The  moral  duty  of  religion  demands  that  we  should  unite  our 
will  with  the  will  of  God.  The  will  of  God  is  all-embracing,  and 
in  being  united  to  it,  or  in  entering  into  true  harmony  with  it, 
we  obtain  an  absolute  and  universal  rule  of  action.  The  idea  of 
God  that  reason  deduces  from  what  is  given  in  true  religious 
experience  is  so  clear  and  definite  that  we  always  can  know,  if 
we  want  to,  what  God  demands  of  us.  In  the  first  place,  God 
wants  us  to  be  conformable  to  and  like  Him.  We  must  manifest 
our  inner  kinship  with  the  Deity,  our  power  and  determination 
to  attain  free  perfection.  This  idea  can  be  expressed  in  the  form 
of  the  following  rule  : Have  God  in  you. 

A man  who  has  God  in  him  regards  everything  in  accordance 
with  God’s  thought  or  ‘from  the  point  of  view  of  the  absolute.’ 
The  second  rule,  then,  is  Regard  everything  in  God's  way. 

God’s  relation  to  everything  is  not  indifference.  Inanimate 
objects  are  indifferent  to  good  and  evil,  but  this  lower  state  cannot 
be  attributed  to  the  Deity.  Although,  according  to  the  words  of 
the  Gospel,  God  lets  the  sun  shine  on  the  just  and  the  unjust,  it 
is  precisely  this  single  light  which,  in  illuminating  different  persons 
and  actions,  shows  the  difference  between  them.  Although, 
according  to  the  same  words,  God  sends  His  rain  to  the  righteous 
and  to  the  sinners,  yet  this  one  and  the  same  moisture  of  God’s 
grace  brings  forth  from  the  different  soil  and  different  seed  fruits 
that  are  not  identical.  God  cannot  be  said  either  to  affirm  evil  or 
to  deny  it  unconditionally.  The  first  is  impossible,  because  in 
that  case  evil  would  be  good,  and  the  second  is  impossible,  because 
in  that  case  evil  could  not  exist  at  all — and  yet  it  does  exist. 
God  denies  evil  as  final  or  abiding,  and  in  virtue  of  this  denial  it 
perishes.  But  He  permits  it  as  a transitory  condition  of freedom , i.e. 
of  a greater  good.  On  the  one  hand,  God  permits  evil  inasmuch  as  a 
direct  denial  or  annihilation  of  it  would  violate  human  freedom  and 
be  a greater  evil,  for  it  would  render  perfect  (i.e.  free)  good  impossible 
in  the  world  ; on  the  other  hand,  God  permits  evil  inasmuch  as  it 


174  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

is  possible  for  His  Wisdom  to  extract  from  evil  a greater  good  or 
the  greatest  possible  perfection,  and  this  is  the  cause  of  the  existence 
of  evil.1  Evil,  then,  is  something  subservient,  and  an  unconditional 
rejection  of  it  would  be  wrong.  We  must  regard  evil  also  in  God’s 
way,  i.e.  without  being  indifferent  to  it,  we  must  rise  above  absolute 
opposition  to  it  and  allow  it — when  it  does  not  proceed  from  us 
— as  a means  of  perfection,  in  so  far  as  a greater  good  can  be 
derived  from  it.  We  must  recognise  the  possibility , i.e.  the 
potentiality,  of  good  in  all  that  is,  and  must  work  for  that 
possibility  to  become  an  actuality.  The  direct  possibility  of 

perfect  good  is  given  in  rational  and  free  beings  like  ourselves. 
Recognising  our  own  unconditional  significance  as  bearers  of  the 
consciousness  of  the  absolute  ideal  (the  image  of  God),  and  of  the 
striving  to  realise  it  completely  (the  likeness  of  God),  we  must  in 
justice  recognise  the  same  thing  of  all  other  persons.  Our  duty 
of  attaining  perfection  we  must  regard  not  merely  as  the  task  of 
the  individual  life,  but  as  an  inseparable  part  of  the  world-wide 
work  of  history. 

The  unconditional  principle  of  morality  can  therefore  be 
expressed  as  follows  : — 

In  complete  inner  harmony  with  the  higher  will  and  recognising 
the  absolute  worth  or  significance  of  all  other  persons , since  they  too  are 
in  the  image  and  likeness  of  God , participate , as  fully  as  in  thee  lies , 
in  the  work  of  making  thyself  and  every  one  more  perfect , so  that  the 
Kingdom  of  God  may  be  finally  revealed  in  the  world. 

VIII 

It  will  be  easily  seen  that  the  unconditional  principle  of 
morality  includes  and  gives  expression  to  all  positive  moral 
principles,  and  that  at  the  same  time  it  completely  satisfies  the 
natural  demand  for  happiness  in  the  sense  of  possessing  the 
highest  good. 

In  demanding  that  man  should  be  a friend  and  helper  of  God, 
the  unconditional  principle  of  morality  does  not  cancel  the 
particular  moral  demands.  On  the  contrary,  it  confirms  them  ; 

1 I must  content  myself  here  with  a general  logical  reflection.  A real  solution  of 
the  question  must  be  based  upon  a metaphysical  inquiry  into  the  nature  of  God  and  the 
origin  of  evil  in  the  world. 


UNCONDITIONAL  PRINCIPLE  OF  MORALITY  175 

it  pats  them  in  a higher  light  and  gives  them  a supreme 
sanction. 

In  the  first  place,  it  refers  to  the  religious  basis  of  morality,  of 
which  it  is  the  direct  development  and  the  final  expression.  The 
higher  demand  presupposes  the  lower.  A babe  at  the  breast 
naturally  cannot  be  his  father’s  friend  and  helper.  In  the  same 
way,  a man  spiritually  under  age  is  inwardly  precluded  from 
standing  in  the  relation  of  free  and  immediate  harmony  with 
God.  In  both  cases  authoritative  guidance  and  education  is 
necessary.  This  is  the  justification  of  external  religious  institu- 
tions— of  sacrifices,  hierarchy,  etc.  Apart  from  their  profound 
mystical  significance,  which  makes  them  an  abiding  link  between 
heaven  and  earth,  they  are  undoubtedly  of  the  first  importance 
to  humanity  from  the  pedagogical  point  of  view.  There  never 
was,  and  never  could  be,  a time  when  all  men  would  be  spiritually 
equal  to  one  another.  Making  use  of  this  inevitable  inequality, 
Providence  has  from  the  first  elected  the  best  to  be  the  spiritual 
teachers  of  the  crowd.  Of  course  the  inequality  was  merely 
relative — the  teachers  of  savages  were  half-savage  themselves. 
Therefore  the  character  of  religious  institutions  changes  and 
becomes  more  perfect  in  conformity  with  the  general  course  of 
history.  But  so  long  as  the  historical  process  is  not  yet  com- 
pleted, no  one  could  in  all  conscience  consider  unnecessary  for 
himself  and  for  others  the  mediation  of  religious  institutions 
which  connect  us  with  the  work  of  God  that  has  already  found 
concrete  embodiment  in  history.  And  even  if  such  a man  could 
be  found,  he  would  certainly  not  reject  the  ‘external’  side  of 
religion.  Indeed  for  him  it  would  not  be  merely  external , for  he 
would  understand  the  fulness  of  the  inner  meaning  inherent  in  it 
and  its  connection  with  the  future  realisation  of  that  meaning. 
A person  who  is  above  school  age  and  has  reached  the  heights  of 
learning  has  certainly  no  reason  to  go  to  school.  But  he  has  still 
less  reason  to  reject  schools  and  to  persuade  the  schoolboys  that 
their  teachers  are  a pack  of  idle  swindlers,  and  that  they  themselves 
are  perfect  men  or  that  educational  institutions  are  the  root  of  all 
evil  and  ought  to  be  wiped  off  the  face  of  the  earth. 

The  true  ‘ friend  of  God  ’ understands  and  cares  for  all  mani- 
festations of  the  divine  both  in  the  physical  world  and,  still  more 
so,  in  human  history.  And  if  he  stands  on  one  of  the  upper 


176  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

rungs  of  the  ladder  that  leads  from  man  to  God,  he  will  certainly 
not  cut  down  the  lower  rungs  on  which  his  brethren  are  standing 
and  which  are  still  supporting  him  too. 

Religious  feeling  raised  to  the  level  of  an  absolute  and  all- 
embracing  principle  of  life  lifts  to  the  same  height  the  other  two 
fundamental  moral  feelings,  as  well  as  the  duties  that  follow  from 
them — namely,  the  feeling  of  pity  which  determines  our  right 
relation  to  our  fellow-creatures,  and  the  feeling  of  shame  upon 
which  our  right  attitude  to  the  lower  material  nature  is  based. 

IX 

Pity  which  we  feel  towards  a fellow-being  acquires  another 
significance  when  we  see  in  that  being  the  image  and  likeness  of 
God.  We  then  recognise  the  unconditional  worth  of  that  person  ; 
we  recognise  that  he  is  an  end  in  himself  for  God,  and  still  more 
must  be  so  for  us.  We  realise  that  God  Himself  does  not  treat 
him  merely  as  a means.  We  respect  that  being  since  God  respects 
him , or,  more  exactly,  we  consider  him  since  God  considers  him. 
This  higher  point  of  view  does  not  exclude  pity  in  cases  when  it 
would  naturally  be  felt — on  the  contrary,  pity  becomes  more 
poignant  and  profound.  I pity  in  that  being  not  merely  his 
sufferings  but  also  the  cause  of  them — I regret  that  his  actual 
reality  falls  so  short  of  his  true  dignity  and  possible  perfection. 
The  duty  that  follows  from  the  altruistic  sentiment  also  acquires 
a higher  meaning.  We  can  no  longer  be  content  with  refraining 
from  injuries  to  our  neighbour  or  even  with  assisting  him  in  his 
troubles.  We  must  help  him  to  become  more  perfect,  so  that 
the  image  and  likeness  of  God  which  we  recognise  in  him  might 
be  actually  realised.  But  no  human  being  can  alone  realise  either 
in  himself  or  in  any  one  else  that  absolute  fulness  of  perfec- 
tion in  seeking  which  we  are  likened  to  God.  Altruism  at  its 
highest  religious  stage  compels  us,  therefore,  actively  to  participate 
in  the  universal  historical  process  which  brings  about  the  con- 
ditions necessary  for  the  revelation  of  the  Kingdom  of  God.  Con- 
sequently it  demands  that  we  should  take  part  in  the  collective 
organisations — especially  in  that  of  the  state  as  inclusive  of  all  the 
others — by  means  of  which  the  historical  process  is,  by  the  .will 
of  Providence,  carried  on.  Not  every  one  is  called  to  political 


UNCONDITIONAL  PRINCIPLE  OF  MORALITY  177 

activity  or  to  the  service  of  the  state  in  the  narrow  sense  of  the 
term.  But  it  is  the  duty  of  every  one  to  serve,  in  his  own  place, 
that  same  purpose — the  common  good — which  the  state  ought 
to  serve  also. 

In  the  domain  of  religion  the  unconditional  principle  of 
morality  leads  us  to  accept  ecclesiastical  institutions  and  traditions 
as  educational  means  whereby  humanity  is  led  in  the  end  to 
ultimate  perfection.  In  a similar  way  in  the  domain  of  purely 
human  relations  inspired  by  pity  and  altruism  the  unconditional 
moral  principle  demands  that  we  should  give  active  service 
to  the  collective  organisations,  such  as  the  state,  by  means  of 
which  Providence  prevents  humanity  from  material  disruption, 
holds  it  together,  and  enables  it  to  become  more  perfect. 
We  know  that  only  in  virtue  of  that  which  has  been  and  is 
being  given  to  humanity  by  the  historical  forms  of  religion 
can  we  truly  attain  to  that  free  and  perfect  union  with  the 
Divine,  the  possibility  and  the  promise  of  which  are  contained 
in  our  inner  religious  feeling.  Similarly,  we  know  that  apart 
from  the  concentrated  and  organised  social  force  which  is  found 
in  the  state  we  cannot  give  all  our  neighbours  that  help  which 
we  are  bidden  to  give  both  by  the  simple  moral  feeling  of 
pity  for  their  sufferings  and  by  the  religious  principle  of  respect 
for  their  unconditional  dignity  which  demands  to  be  realised. 

In  both  cases  we  connect  our  allegiance  to  the  ecclesiastical 
and  the  political  forms  of  social  life  with  the  unconditional 
principle  of  morality,  and  in  doing  so  we  recognise  that  allegiance 
as  conditional , as  determined  by  this  higher  truth  and  dependent 
upon  it.  Institutions  which  ought  to  serve  the  good  in  humanity 
may  more  or  less  deviate  from  their  purpose  or  even  be  wholly  false 
to  it.  In  that  case  the  duty  of  man  true  to  the  good  consists  neither 
in  entirely  rejecting  the  institutions  in  question  on  the  ground  of 
the  abuses  connected  with  them — which  would  be  unjust — nor  in 
blindly  submitting  to  them  both  in  good  and  in  evil,  which  would 
be  impious  and  unworthy.  His  duty  would  be  to  try  and  actively 
reform  the  institutions,  insisting  on  what  their  function  ought  to 
be.  If  we  know  why  and  for  what  sake  we  ought  to  submit  to  a 
certain  institution,  we  also  know  the  form  and  the  measure  ot 
such  submission.  It  will  never  become  unlimited,  blind,  and 
slavish.  We  shall  never  be  passive  and  senseless  instruments  of 

N 


178  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

external  forces  ; we  shall  never  put  the  Church  in  the  place  of 
God,  or  the  state  in  the  place  of  humanity.  We  shall  not  take 
the  transitory  forms  and  instruments  of  the  providential  work  in 
history  for  the  essence  and  the  purpose  of  that  work.  We  sub- 
ordinate our  personal  impotence  and  insufficiency  to  the  historical 
forces,  but  in  our  higher  consciousness  we  regard  them  in  God’s 
way,  using  them  as  the  means  or  the  conditions  of  the  perfect 
good.  In  doing  so  we  do  not  renounce  our  human  dignity — 
rather  we  affirm  it  and  realise  it  as  unconditional. 

When  I make  use  of  physical  force  and  move  my  arms  in 
order  to  save  a drowning  man  or  to  give  food  to  the  hungry, 
I do  not  in  any  way  detract  from  my  moral  dignity  ; on  the 
contrary,  I increase  it.  Why  then  should  it  be  a detriment, 
rather  than  a gain,  to  our  morality  to  take  advantage  of  the 
spiritually-material  forces  of  the  state  and  use  them  for  the  good 
of  nations  and  of  humanity  as  a whole  ? To  submit  to  material 
powers  is  shameful,  but  to  deny  their  right  to  existence  is  perilous 
and  unjust.  In  any  case  the  unconditional  principle  of  morality 
extends  to  the  domain  of  matter  also. 

X 

The  natural  feeling  of  shame  bears  witness  to  the  autonomy 
of  our  being,  and  safeguards  its  wholeness  from  the  destructive 
intrusion  of  foreign  elements.  At  the  lower  stages  of  develop- 
ment, when  sensuous  life  predominates,  special  significance 
attaches  to  bodily  chastity,  and  the  feeling  of  shame  is  originally 
connected  with  this  side  of  life.  But  as  moral  feelings  and 
relations  are  developed  further,  man  begins  to  form  a wider 
conception  of  his  dignity.  He  is  ashamed  not  only  of  yielding  to 
the  lower  material  nature,  but  also  of  all  violations  of  duty  in 
relation  to  gods  and  men.  The  unconscious  instinct  of  shame 
becomes  now,  as  we  have  seen,  the  clear  voice  of  conscience  which 
reproaches  man  not  for  carnal  sins  alone  but  also  for  all  wrong- 
doing— for  all  unjust  and  pitiless  actions  and  feelings.  At  the 
same  time  there  is  developed  a special  feeling  of  the  fear  of  God, 
which  restrains  us  from  coming  into  conflict  with  anything  that 
expresses  for  us  the  holiness  of  God.  When  the  relation  between 
man  and  God  is  raised  to  the  level  of  absolute  consciousness,  the 


UNCONDITIONAL  PRINCIPLE  OF  MORALITY  179 

feeling  which  protects  the  wholeness  of  man  is  also  raised  to  a new 
and  final  stage.  What  is  now  being  safeguarded  is  not  the  relative 
but  the  absolute  dignity  of  man,  that  is,  his  ideal  perfection  which 
is  to  be  realised.  The  negative  voice  of  shame,  conscience,  and  the 
fear  of  God  becomes  at  this  stage  a direct  and  positive  conscious- 
ness in  man  of  his  own  divinity  or  a consciousness  of  God  in  him. 
This  consciousness  no  longer  reproaches  him  for  doing  what  is 
bad  and  injurious,  but  for  feeling  and  acting  as  an  imperfect  being, 
while  perfection  is  his  duty  and  his  goal.  Instead  of  the  demon 
which  restrained  Socrates  from  wrong  actions,  we  hear  the  Divine 
voice  : “Be  ye  perfect  even  as  your  Father  in  heaven  is  perfect.” 
If  perfection  is  to  be  perfectly  realised  it  must  include  the 
material  life.  The  unconditional  principle  gives  a new  mean- 
ing to  the  ascetic  morality.  We  refrain  from  carnal  sins  no 
longer  out  of  the  instinct  of  spiritual  self-preservation  or  for  the 
sake  of  increasing  our  inner  power,  but  for  the  sake  of  our  body 
itself,  as  the  uttermost  limit  of  the  manifestation  of  God  in  man, 
as  the  predestined  abode  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  REALITY  OF  THE  MORAL  ORDER 

I 

The  unconditional  principle  of  morality,  logically  involved  in 
religious  experience,  contains  the  complete  good  (or  the  right 
relation  of  all  to  everything)  not  merely  as  a demand  or  an  idea, 
but  as  an  actual  power  that  can  fulfil  this  demand  and  create 
the  perfect  moral  order  or  the  Kingdom  of  God  in  which  the 
absolute  significance  of  every  being  is  realised.  It  is  by  virtue  of 
this  supreme  principle  alone  that  the  moral  good  can  give  us  final 
and  complete  satisfaction,  can  be  for  us  a true  blessing  and  a 
source  of  infinite  bliss. 

We  experience  the  reality  of  God  not  as  something  in- 
definitely divine — Saiy.6vi6v  rt,  but  we  are  conscious  of  Him  as  He 
really  is,  all-perfect  or  absolute.  And  our  soul  too  is  revealed  to 
us  in  our  inner  experience  not  merely  as  something  distinct  from 
material  facts,  but  as  a positive  force  which  struggles  with  the 
material  processes  and  overcomes  them.  The  experience  of 
physiological  asceticism  does  more  than  support  the  truth  that  the 
soul  is  immortal — a postulate  beyond  which  Kant  would  not  go  ; 
it  also  justifies  the  hope  of  the  resurrection  of  the  body.  For  in 
the  triumph  of  the  spirit  over  matter,  as  we  know  from  our  own 
preliminary  and  rudimentary  experience,  matter  is  not  destroyed 
but  is  made  eternal  as  the  image  of  a spiritual  quality  and  an 
instrument  of  the  activity  of  the  spirit. 

We  do  not  know  from  experience  what  matter  is  in  itself ; 
this  is  a subject  for  metaphysical  investigation.  The  psychical 
and  the  physical  phenomena  are  qualitatively  distinct  so  far  as 
knowledge  is  concerned  : the  first  are  known  by  direct  intro- 

180 


THE  REALITY  OF  THE  MORAL  ORDER  181 


spection  and  the  second  by  means  of  the  outer  senses.  But 
experience — both  the  immediate  individual  and  the  universal, 
scientific,  and  historical  experience — undoubtedly  proves  that  in 
spite  of  this  there  is  no  gulf  between  the  real  essence  of  the 
spiritual  and  the  material  nature,  that  the  two  are  most  intimately 
connected  and  constantly  interact.  Since  the  process  whereby 
the  universe  attains  perfection  is  the  process  of  manifesting 
God  in  man,  it  must  also  be  the  process  of  manifesting  God  in 
matter. 

The  chief  concrete  stages  of  this  process,  given  in  our 
experience,  bear  the  traditional  and  significant  name  of  kingdoms. 
It  is  significant  because  it  really  is  applicable  only  to  the  last  and 
highest  stage,  which  is  usually  not  taken  into  account  at  all. 
Counting  this  highest  stage  there  are  five  kingdoms  altogether  : 
the  mineral  (or,  more  generally,  the  inorganic)  kingdom,  the 
vegetable  kingdom,  the  animal  kingdom,  the  human  kingdom,  and 
God's  kingdom.  Minerals,  plants,  animals,  natural  humanity  and 
spiritual  humanity — such  are  the  typical  forms  of  existence  from 
the  point  of  view  of  the  ascending  process  of  universal  perfection. 
From  other  points  of  view  the  number  of  these  forms  and  stages 
might  be  increased,  or,  on  the  contrary,  be  reduced  to  four,  three, 
and  two.  Plants  and  animals  may  be  grouped  together  into  one 
organic  world.  Or  the  whole  realm  of  physical  existence,  both 
organic  and  inorganic,  may  be  united  in  the  one  conception  of 
nature.  In  that  case  there  would  be  a threefold  division  only, 
into  the  Divine,  the  human,  and  the  natural  kingdoms.  Finally, 
one  may  stop  at  the  simple  opposition  between  the  Kingdom  of 
God  and  the  kingdom  of  this  world. 

Without  in  the  least  rejecting  these  and  all  other  divisions,  it 
must  be  admitted  that  the  five  kingdoms  indicated  above  represent 
the  most  characteristic  and  clearly  defined  grades  of  existence  from 
the  point  of  view  of  the  moral  meaning  realised  in  the  process 
of  manifesting  God  in  matter. 

Stones  and  metals  are  distinguished  from  all  else  by  their 
extreme  self-sufficiency  and  conservatism  ; had  it  rested  with 
them,  nature  would  never  have  wakened  from  her  dreamless 
slumber.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  without  them  her  further 
growth  would  have  been  deprived  of  a firm  basis  or  ground. 
Plants  in  unconscious,  unbroken  dreams  draw  towards  warmth, 


1 82  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

light,  and  moisture.  Animals  by  means  of  sensations  and  free 
movements  seek  the  fulness  of  sensuous  being : repletion,  sexual 
satisfaction,  and  the  joy  of  existence  (their  games  and  singing). 
Natural  humanity,  in  addition  to  all  these  things,  rationally  strives 
to  improve  its  life  by  means  of  sciences,  arts,  and  social  institu- 
tions, actually  improves  it  in  various  respects,  and  finally  rises  to 
the  idea  of  absolute  perfection.  Spiritual  humanity  or  humanity 
born  of  God  not  only  understands  this  absolute  perfection  with 
the  intellect  but  accepts  it  in  its  heart  and  its  conduct  as  the 
true  beginning  of  that  which  must  be  fulfilled  in  all  things.  It 
seeks  to  realise  it  to  the  end  and  to  embody  it  in  the  life  of  the 
universe. 

Each  preceding  kingdom  serves  as  the  immediate  basis  of  the 
one  that  follows.  Plants  derive  their  nourishment  from  inorganic 
substances,  animals  exist  at  the  expense  of  the  vegetable  kingdom, 
men  live  at  the  expense  of  animals,  and  the  Kingdom  of  God  is 
composed  of  men.  If  we  consider  an  organism  from  the  point 
of  view  of  its  material  constituents  we  shall  find  in  it  nothing 
but  elements  of  inorganic  substance.  That  substance,  however, 
ceases  to  be  a mere  substance  in  so  far  as  it  enters  into  the  plan  of 
the  organic  life,  which  makes  use  of  the  chemical  and  physical 
properties  of  substance  but  is  not  reducible  to  them.  In  a similar 
way,  human  life  on  its  material  side  consists  of  animal  processes, 
which,  however,  have  in  it  no  significance  on  their  own  account 
as  they  do  in  the  animal  world.  They  serve  as  a means  or  an 
instrument  for  new  purposes  and  new  objects  which  follow 
from  the  new,  higher  plan  of  rational  or  human  life.  The  sole 
purpose  of  the  typical  animal  is  satisfaction  of  hunger  and  of 
the  sexual  instinct.  But  when  a human  being  desires  nothing 
further  he  is  rightly  called  bestial,  not  only  as  a term  of  abuse, 
but  precisely  in  the  sense  of  sinking  to  a lower  level  of  existence. 
Just  as  a living  organism  consists  of  chemical  substances  which 
cease  to  be  mere  substances,  so  humanity  consists  of  animals 
which  cease  to  be  merely  animal.  Similarly,  the  Kingdom  of 
God  consists  of  men  who  have  ceased  to  be  merely  human  and 
form  part  of  a new  and  higher  plan  of  existence  in  which  their 
purely-human  ends  become  the  means  and  instruments  for  another 
final  purpose. 


THE  REALITY  OF  THE  MORAL  ORDER  183 


II 

The  stone  exists  ; the  plant  exists  and  is  living  ; the  animal 
lives  and  is  conscious  of  its  life  in  its  concrete  states ; man  under- 
stands the  meaning  of  life  according  to  ideas  ; the  sons  of  God 
actively  realise  this  meaning  or  the  perfect  moral  order  in  all 
things  to  the  end. 

The  stone  exists,  this  is  clear  from  its  sensible  effect  upon  us. 
A person  who  denies  it  can  easily  convince  himself  of  his  error, 
as  has  been  observed  long  ago,  by  knocking  his  head  against 
the  stone.1  Stone  is  the  most  typical  embodiment  of  the  category 
of  being  as  such,  and,  in  contradistinction  to  Hegel’s  abstract  idea 
of  being,  it  shows  no  inclination  whatever  to  pass  into  its 
opposite  : 2 a stone  is  what  it  is  and  has  always  been  the  symbol 
of  changeless  being.  It  merely  exists — it  does  not  live  and  it  does 
not  die,  for  the  parts  into  which  it  is  broken  up  do  not  qualitatively 
differ  from  the  whole.3  The  plant  not  merely  exists  but  lives, 
which  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  it  dies.  Life  does  not  presuppose 
death,  but  death  obviously  presupposes  life.  There  is  a clear  and 
essential  difference  between  a growing  tree  and  logs  of  wood, 
between  a fresh  and  a faded  flower — a difference  to  which  there 
is  nothing  corresponding  in  the  mineral  kingdom. 

1 Kant  rightly  points  out  that  this  argument  is  insufficient  for  theoretical  philosophy  j 
and  when  dealing  with  the  theory  of  knowledge  I propose  to  discuss  the  question  as  to 
the  being  of  things.  But  in  moral  philosophy  the  above  argument  is  sufficient,  for  in  all 
conscience  it  is  convincing. 

2 It  will  be  remembered  that  in  Hegel’s  Dialectic  pure  being  passes  into  pure 
nothing.  In  answer  to  a learned  critic,  I would  like  to  observe  that  although  I regard 
the  stone  as  the  most  typical  embodiment  and  symbol  of  unchanging  being,  I do  not  in 
the  least  identify  the  stone  with  the  category  of  being  and  do  not  deny  the  mechanical 
and  physical  properties  of  the  concrete  stone.  Every  one,  for  instance,  takes  the  pig 
to  be  the  most  typical  embodiment  and  symbol  of  the  moral  category  of  unrestrained 
carnality,  which  is  on  that  account  called  ‘ piggishness.’  But  in  doing  so  no  one  denies 
that  a real  pig  has  in  addition  to  its  piggishness  four  legs,  two  eyes,  etc. 

3 I am  speaking  here  of  the  stone  as  the  most  characteristic  and  concrete  instance 
of  inorganic  bodies  in  general.  Such  a body  taken  in  isolation  has  no  real  life  of  its  own. 
But  this  in  no  way  prejudges  the  metaphysical  question  as  to  the  life  of  nature  in 
general  or  of  the  more  or  less  complex  natural  wholes  such  as  the  sea,  rivers,  mountains, 
forests.  And  indeed,  separate  inorganic  bodies  too,  such  as  stones,  though  devoid  of 
life  on  their  own  account,  may  serve  as  constant  mediums  for  the  localised  living 
activity  of  spiritual  beings.  Of  this  nature  were  the  sacred  stones — the  so-called  bethels 
or  bethils  (houses  of  God)  which  were  associated  with  the  presence  and  activity  of  angels 
or  Divine  powers  that  seemed  to  inhabit  these  stones. 


184  the  justification  of  the  good 

It  is  as  impossible  to  deny  life  to  plants  as  to  deny  consciousness 
to  animals.  It  can  only  be  done  with  the  help  of  an  arbitrary 
and  artificial  terminology,  which  is  not  binding  upon  any  one. 
According  to  the  natural  meaning  of  the  word,  consciousness  in 
general  is  a definite  and  regular  correspondence  or  interrelation 
between  the  inner  psychical  life  of  a given  being  and  its 
external  environment.  Such  correlation  is  undoubtedly  present  in 
animals.  The  presence  of  life  in  the  vegetable  kingdom  is  clearly 
seen  in  the  distinction  between  a living  and  a dead  plant  ; the 
presence  of  consciousness  in  animals  is,  at  any  rate  in  the  case  of 
the  higher  and  typical  animals,  clearly  seen  in  the  distinction 
between  a sleeping  and  a waking  animal.  For  the  distinction 
consists  precisely  in  the  fact  that  a waking  animal  consciously 
takes  part  in  the  life  that  surrounds  it,  while  the  psychical  world 
of  a sleeping  animal  is  cut  off  from  direct  communication  with 
that  life.1  An  animal  not  merely  has  sensations  and  images  ; it 
connects  them  by  means  of  correct  associations.  And  although 
it  is  the  interests  and  the  impressions  of  the  present  moment  that 
predominate  in  its  life,  it  remembers  its  past  states  and  foresees  the 
future  ones.  If  this  were  not  the  case,  the  education  or  training 
of  animals  would  be  impossible,  yet  such  training  is  a fact.  No 
one  will  deny  memory  to  a horse  or  a dog.  But  to  remember  a 
thing  or  to  be  conscious  of  it  is  one  and  the  same.  To  deny 
consciousness  to  animals  is  merely  an  aberration  of  the  human 
consciousness  in  some  philosophers. 

One  fact  of  comparative  anatomy  ought  alone  to  be  sufficient 
to  disprove  this  crude  error.  To  deny  consciousness  to  animals 
means  to  reduce  the  whole  of  their  life  to  the  blind  promptings  of 
instinct.  But  how  are  we  to  explain  in  that  case  the  gradual 
development  in  the  higher  animals  of  the  organ  of  conscious  mental 
activity — the  brain  ? How  could  this  organ  have  appeared  and 
developed  if  the  animals  in  question  had  no  corresponding 
functions  ? Unconscious,  instinctive  life  does  not  need  the 
brain.  This  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  the  development  of  instinct 

1 The  usual  ways  in  which  an  animal  becomes  conscious  of  his  environment  are 
closed  in  sleep.  But  this  does  not  by  any  means  exclude  the  possibility  of  a different 
environment  and  erf  other  means  of  mental  correlation,  i.e.  of  another  sphere  of  conscious- 
ness. In  that  case,  however,  the  periodical  transition  of  a given  mental  life  from  one 
sphere  of  consciousness  into  another  would  prove  still  more  clearly  the  general  conscious 
character  of  that  life. 


THE  REALITY  OF  THE  MORAL  ORDER  185 


is  prior  to  the  appearance  of  that  organ,  and  that  it  reaches  its 
highest  development  in  creatures  that  have  no  brain.  The 
excellence  of  ants’  and  bees’  social,  hunting,  and  constructive 
instincts  depends  of  course  not  on  the  brain,  v/hich,  strictly  speak- 
ing, they  have  not  got,  but  upon  their  well-developed  sympathetic 
nervous  system. 

Man  differs  from  animals  not  by  being  conscious,  since  the 
same  is  true  of  them  also,  but  by  possessing  reason  or  the 
faculty  of  forming  general  concepts  and  ideas.  The  presence  of 
consciousness  in  animals  is  proved  by  their  purposive  movements, 
mimicry,  and  their  language  of  various  sounds.  The  fundamental 
evidence  of  the  rationality  of  man  is  the  word , which  expresses  not 
only  the  states  of  a particular  consciousness,  but  the  general  mean- 
ing of  all  things.  The  ancient  wisdom  rightly  defined  man  not 
as  a conscious  being — which  is  not  enough — but  as  a being 
endowed  with  language  or  a rational  being. 

The  power  inherent  in  the  very  nature  of  reason  and  of 
language  to  grasp  the  all-embracing  and  all-uniting  truth  has 
acted  in  many  different  ways  in  various  and  separate  peoples, 
gradually  building  up  the  human  kingdom  upon  the  basis  of  the 
animal  life.  The  ultimate  essence  of  this  human  kingdom  is  the 
ideal  demand  for  the  perfect  moral  order,  i.e.  a demand  for  the 
Kingdom  of  God.  By  two  paths — of  prophetic  inspiration  among 
the  Jews,  and  of  philosophic  thought  among  the  Greeks — has  the 
human  spirit  approached  the  idea  of  the  Kingdom  of  God,  and 
the  ideal  of  the  God-man.1  Parallel  to  this  double  inner  process, 
but  naturally  more  slow  than  it,  was  the  external  process  of  bringing 
about  political  unity  and  unity  of  culture  among  the  chief  historical 
peoples  of  East  and  West,  completed  by  the  Roman  Empire.  In 
Greece  and  Rome  natural  or  pagan  humanity  reached  its  limit. 
In  the  beautiful  sensuous  form  and  speculative  idea  among  the 
Greeks,  and  in  the  practical  reason,  will,  or  power  among  the 
Romans,  it  has  affirmed  its  absolute  divine  significance.  There 
arose  the  idea  of  the  absolute  man  or  man-god.  This  idea  cannot, 
from  its  very  nature,  remain  abstract  or  purely  speculative.  It 
demands  embodiment.  But  it  is  as  impossible  for  man  to  make 

1 Both  these  paths — the  Biblical  and  the  philosophical — coincided  in  the  mind  of  the 
Alexandrian  Jew  Philo,  who  is,  from  this  point  of  view,  the  last  and  the  most  significant 
thinker  of  antiquity. 


1 86  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

himself  a god  as  it  is  impossible  for  animals  by  their  own  efforts 
to  attain  human  dignity,  rationality,  and  power  of  speech.  Re- 
maining upon  its  own  level  of  development,  animal  nature  could 
only  produce  the  ape,  and  human  nature — the  Roman  Caesar.  Just 
as  the  ape  is  the  forerunner  of  man,  so  the  deified  Caesar  is  the 
forerunner  of  the  God-man. 


Ill 

At  the  period  when  the  pagan  world  contemplated  its  spiritual 
failure  in  the  person  of  the  supposed  man-god — the  Caesar  im- 
potently  aping  the  deity,  individual  philosophers  and  earnest 
believers  were  awaiting  the  incarnation  of  the  Divine  Word  or 
the  coming  of  the  Messiah,  the  Son  of  God  and  the  King  of 
Truth.  The  man-god,  even  if  he  were  lord  of  all  the  world,  is 
but  an  empty  dream  ; the  God-man  can  reveal  His  true  nature 
even  in  the  guise  of  a wandering  rabbi. 

The  historical  existence  of  Christ,  as  well  as  the  reality  of 
His  character  recorded  in  the  Gospels,  is  not  open  to  serious 
doubt.  It  was  impossible  to  invent  Him,  and  no  one  could  have 
done  it.  And  this  perfectly  historical  image  is  the  image  of  the 
perfect  man — not  of  a man,  however,  who  says,  ‘ I have  become 
god,’  but  of  one  who  says,  ‘ I am  born  of  God  and  am  sent  by 
Him,  I was  one  with  God  before  the  world  was  made.’  We  are 
compelled  by  reason  to  believe  this  testimony,  for  the  historical 
coming  of  Christ  as  God  made  manifest  in  man  is  inseparably 
connected  with  the  whole  of  the  world-process.  If  the  reality  of 
this  event  is  denied,  there  can  be  no  meaning  or  purpose  in  the 
universe. 

When  the  first  vegetable  forms  appeared  in  the  inorganic 
world,  developing  subsequently  into  the  luxurious  kingdom  of 
trees  and  flowers,  they  could  not  have  appeared  of  themselves,  out 
of  nothing.  It  would  be  equally  absurd  to  suppose  that  they  had 
sprung  from  the  accidental  combinations  of  inorganic  elements. 
Life  is  a new  positive  content,  something  more  than  lifeless  matter  ; 
and  to  reduce  the  greater  to  the  lesser  is  to  assert  that  something 
can  come  out  of  nothing,  which  is  obviously  absurd.  The 
phenomena  of  vegetable  life  are  continuous  with  the  phenomena 
of  the  inorganic  world  ; but  that  of  which  they  are  the  phenomena 


THE  REALITY  OF  THE  MORAL  ORDER  187 

is  essentially  distinct  in  the  two  kingdoms,  and  the  heterogeneity 
becomes  more  and  more  apparent  as  the  new  kingdom  develops 
further.  In  the  same  way,  the  world  of  plants  and  the  world  of 
animals  spring,  as  it  were,  from  one  root  ; the  elementary  forms 
of  both  are  so  similar  that  biology  recognises  a whole  class  of 
animal -plants  (the  Zoophites).  But  under  this  apparent  or 
phenomenal  homogeneity  there  is  undoubtedly  concealed  a funda- 
mental and  essential  difference  of  type,  which  evinces  itself  later 
in  the  two  divergent  directions  or  planes  of  being — the  vegetable 
and  the  animal.  In  this  case,  again,  that  which  is  new  and  greater 
in  the  animal,  as  compared  with  the  vegetable  type,  cannot, 
without  obvious  absurdity,  be  reduced  to  the  lesser,  i.e.  to  the 
qualities  they  have  in  common.  This  would  mean  identifying 
a + b with  #,  or  recognising  something  as  equal  to  nothing.  In 
exactly  the  same  way  there  is  close  proximity  and  intimate 
material  coanection,  in  the  phenomenal  order,  between  the  human 
and  the  animal  world.  But  the  essential  peculiarity  of  the  latter — 
which  is  certainly  more  apparent  in  a Plato  or  a Goethe  than  in  a 
Papuan  or  an  Esquimo — is  a new  positive  content,  a certain  plus 
of  existence,  which  cannot  be  deduced  from  the  old  animal  type. 
A cannibal  may  not  in  himself  be  much  above  the  ape  ; but  then 
he  is  not  a final  type  of  humanity.  An  uninterrupted  series  of 
more  perfect  generations  lead  from  the  cannibal  to  Plato  and 
Goethe,  while  an  ape,  so  long  as  it  is  an  ape,  does  not  become 
essentially  more  perfect.  We  are  connected  with  our  half-savage 
ancestors  by  the  bond  of  historical  memory,  or  the  unity  of 
collective  consciousness — which  animals  do  not  possess.  Their 
memory  is  individual  only,  and  the  physiological  bond  between 
generations  that  finds  expression  in  heredity  does  not  enter  their 
consciousness.  Therefore,  though  animals  participate  to  a certain 
extent  in  the  process  of  making  the  animal  form  more  perfect 
(in  accordance  with  the  evolutionary  theory),  the  results  and  the 
purpose  of  this  process  remain  external  and  foreign  to  them.  But 
the  process  whereby  humanity  is  made  more  perfect  is  conditioned 
by  the  faculties  of  reason  and  will  which  are  found  in  the  lowest 
savage,  though  in  a rudimentary  degree  only.  Just  as  these 
higher  faculties  cannot  be  deduced  from  the  animal  nature  and 
form  a separate  human  kingdom,  so  the  qualities  of  the  spiritual 
man — of  man  made  perfect  or  of  the  God -man  — cannot  be 


1 88  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

deduced  from  the  states  and  qualities  of  the  natural  man.  Conse- 
quently, the  Kingdom  of  God  cannot  be  taken  to  be  the  result  of 
the  unbroken  development  of  the  purely-human  world.  The  God- 
man  is  not  the  same  as  the  man-god , even  though  distinct  individuals 
among  natural  humanity  may  have  anticipated  the  higher  life 
which  was  to  come.  As  the  c water  lily  ’ appears  at  first  sight  to 
be  a plant,  while  it  undoubtedly  is  an  animal,  so,  at  the  beginning, 
the  bearers  of  the  Kingdom  of  God  apparently  do  not  seem  in 
any  way  to  differ  from  men  of  this  world,  though  there  lives  and 
acts  within  them  the  principle  of  a new  order  of  being. 

The  fact  that  the  higher  forms  or  types  of  being  appear,  or 
are  revealed,  after  the  lower  does  not  by  any  means  prove  that 
they  are  a product  or  a creation  of  the  lower.  The  order  of 
reality  is  not  the  same  as  the  order  of  appearance.  The  higher, 
the  richer,  and  the  more  positive  types  and  states  of  being  are 
metaphysically  prior  to  the  lower,  although  they  are  revealed  or 
manifested  subsequently  to  them.  This  is  not  a denial  of  evolu- 
tion ; evolution  cannot  be  denied,  it  is  a fact.  But  to  maintain  that 
evolution  creates  the  higher  forms  out  of  the  lower,  or,  in  the  long- 
run,  out  of  nothing,  is  to  substitute  a logical  absurdity  for  the  fact. 
Evolution  of  the  lower  types  of  being  cannot  of  itself  create  the 
higher.  It  simply  produces  the  material  conditions  or  brings 
about  the  environment  necessary  for  the  manifestation  or  the 
revelation  of  the  higher  type.  Thus,  every  appearance  of  a new 
type  of  being  is  in  a certain  sense  a new  creation.  But  it  is  not 
created  out  of  nothing.  The  material  basis  for  the  appearance  of 
the  new  is  the  old  type.  The  special  positive  content  of  the 
higher  type  does  not  arise  de  novo , but  exists  from  all  eternity.  It 
simply  enters,  at  a certain  moment  in  the  process,  into  a different 
order  of  being — the  phenomenal  world.  The  conditions  of  the 
appearance  are  due  to  the  natural  evolution  of  the  material  world  ; 
that  which  appears  comes  from  God.1 

IV 

The  interrelation  between  the  fundamental  types  of  being — 
which  are  the  chief  stages  in  the  world-process — is  not  exhausted 

1 The  primordial  relation  of  God  to  nature  lies  outside  the  boundaries  of  the  world- 
process  and  is  a subject  for  pure  metaphysics,  which  I will  not  touch  upon  here. 


THE  REALITY  OF  THE  MORAL  ORDER  189 

by  the  negative  fact  that  these  types,  each  having  its  own  peculiar 
nature,  are  not  reducible  to  one  another.  There  is  a direct  con- 
nection between  them  which  gives  positive  unity  to  the  process  as  a 
whole.  This  unity,  into  the  essential  nature  of  which  we  cannot 
here  inquire,  is  revealed  in  three  ways.  In  the  first  place,  each  new 
type  is  a new  condition  necessary  for  the  realisation  of  the  supreme 
and  final  end,  namely,  for  the  actual  manifestation  in  the  world  of  the 
perfect  moral  order,  the  Kingdom  of  God,  or  for  cthe  revelation  of 
the  freedom  and  glory  of  the  sons  of  God.’  In  order  to  attain  its 
highest  end  or  manifest  its  absolute  worth,  a being  must  in  the  first 
place  bet  then  it  must  be  living , then  be  conscious , then  be  rational , 
and  finally  be  perfect.  The  defective  conceptions  of  not  being, 
lifelessness,  unconsciousness,  and  irrationality  are  logically  incom- 
patible with  the  idea  of  perfection.  The  concrete  embodiment 
of  each  of  the  positive  states  of  existence  forms  the  actual  king- 
doms of  the  world,  so  that  even  the  lower  enter  into  the  moral 
order  as  the  necessary  conditions  of  its  realisation.  This  instru- 
mental relation,  however,  does  not  exhaust  the  unity  of  the  world  as 
given  in  experience.  The  lower  types  are  inwardly  drawn  to  the 
higher,  strive  to  attain  to  them,  having  in  them,  as  it  were,  their 
purpose  and  their  end.  This  fact  also  indicates  the  purposive 
character  of  the  process  as  a whole  (the  most  obvious  instance  of 
the  striving  is  the  likeness,  already  indicated,  of  the  ape  to  man). 
Finally,  the  positive  connection  of  the  graduated  kingdoms  shows 
itself  in  the  fact  that  each  type  includes  or  embraces  the  lower 
types  within  itself — and  the  higher  it  is,  the  more  fully  it  does  so. 
The  world-process  may  thus  be  said  to  be  the  process  of  gathering 
the  universe  together , as  well  as  of  developing  and  perfecting  it. 
Plants  physiologically  absorb  their  environment  (the  inorganic  sub- 
stances and  physical  phenomena  which  nourish  them  and  promote 
their  growth).  Animals,  in  addition  to  feeding  on  plants,  psycho- 
logically absorb,  i.e.  take  into  their  consciousness,  a wider  circle 
of  events  correlated  with  them  through  sensation.  Man,  in 
addition  to  this,  grasps,  by  means  of  reason,  remote  spheres  of 
being  which  are  not  immediately  sensed ; at  a high  stage  of 
development  he  can  embrace  all  in  one  or  understand  the  meaning 
of  all  things.  Finally  the  God-man  or  the  Living  Reason 
(Logos)  not  only  abstractly  understands  but  actively  realises  the 
meaning  of  everything,  or  the  perfect  moral  order,  as  he  embraces 


1 90  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

and  connects  together  all  things  by  the  living  personal  power  of 
love.  The  highest  end  of  man  as  such  (pure  man)  and  of  the 
human  world  is  to  gather  the  universe  together  in  thought.  The 
end  of  the  God-man  and  of  the  Kingdom  of  God  is  to  gather  the 
universe  together  in  reality. 

The  vegetable  world  does  not  abolish  the  inorganic  world,  but 
merely  relegates  it  to  a lower,  subordinate  place.  The  same  thing 
happens  at  the  further  stages  of  the  world-process.  At  the  end  of 
it,  the  Kingdom  of  God  does  not,  when  it  appears,  abolish  the  lower 
types  of  existence,  but  puts  them  all  into  their  right  place,  no  longer 
as  separate  spheres  of  existence  but  as  the  spiritually-physical  organs 
of  a collected  universe,  bound  together  by  an  absolute  inner  unity 
and  interaction.  This  is  the  reason  why  the  Kingdom  of  God  is 
identical  with  the  reality  of  the  absolute  moral  order,  or,  what  is 
the  same  thing,  with  universal  resurrection  and  d7roKaTao-Ta<ris 

twv  7ra vtwv. 

V 

When  the  God- man  who  begins  the  Kingdom  of  God  is 
described  as  ‘an  ideal,’  this  does  not  mean  that  he  is  thinkable  only 
and  not  real.  He  can  only  be  called  ideal  in  the  sense  in  which 
a man  may  be  said  to  be  an  ideal  for  the  animal,  or  a plant  an 
ideal  for  the  earth  out  of  which  it  grows.  The  plant  is  more  ideal 
in  the  sense  of  possessing  greater  worth,  but  it  has  a greater  and 
not  a lesser  reality  or  fulness  of  existence  as  compared  with  a clod 
of  earth.  The  same  must  be  said  of  the  animal  as  compared  with 
the  plant,  of  the  natural  man  as  compared  with  the  animal,  and  of 
the  God-man  as  compared  with  the  natural  man.  On  the  whole, 
the  greater  worth  of  the  ideal  content  is  in  direct  proportion  to  the 
increase  in  real  power  : the  plant  has  concrete  powers  (such  as  the 
power  to  transmute  inorganic  substances  for  its  own  purposes)  which 
the  clod  of  earth  has  not  ; man  is  far  more  powerful  than  the  ape, 
and  Christ  has  infinitely  more  power  than  the  Roman  Caesar. 

The  natural  man  differs  from  the  spiritual  not  by  being  utterly 
devoid  of  the  spiritual  element,  but  by  not  having  the  power  to 
realise  that  element  completely.  To  obtain  this  power  the 
spiritual  being  of  man  must  be  fertilised  by  a new  creative  act  or 
by  the  effect  of  what  in  theology  is  called  grace , which  gives  the 


THE  REALITY  OF  THE  MORAL  ORDER  191 

sons  of  men  ‘ the  power  to  become  the  children  of  God.’  Even 
according  to  orthodox  theologians  grace  does  not  abolish  nature 
in  general,  and  the  moral  nature  of  man  in  particular,  but  perfects  it. 
The  moral  nature  of  man  is  the  necessary  condition  and  pre- 
supposition of  the  manifestation  of  God  in  man.  Not  every 
inorganic  substance  but  only  certain  chemical  combinations  can  be 
affected  by  the  vital  force  and  form  part  of  vegetable  and  animal 
organisms.  Similarly,  not  all  living  beings  but  only  those  endowed 
with  a moral  nature  can  receive  the  effects  of  grace  and  enter  into 
the  Kingdom  of  God.  The  beginnings  of  spiritual  life  are 
inherent  in  the  very  nature  of  man  and  are  to  be  found  in  the 
feelings  of  shame,  pity,  and  reverence,  as  well  as  in  the  rules 
of  conduct  that  follow  from  these  feelings  and  are  safeguarded 
by  conscience  or  the  consciousness  of  duty.  This  natural 
good  in  man  is  an  imperfect  good,  and  it  is  logically  inevitable 
that  it  should,  as  such,  remain  for  ever  imperfect.  Otherwise 
we  should  have  to  admit  that  the  infinite  can  be  the  result  of  the 
addition  of  finite  magnitudes,  that  the  unconditional  can  arise  out 
of  the  conditioned,  and,  finally,  that  something  can  come  out  of 
nothing.  Human  nature  does  not  contain  and  therefore  cannot 
of  itself  give  rise  to  the  real  infinity  or  fulness  of  perfection.  But 
by  virtue  of  reason  or  universal  meaning  inherent  in  it,  it  contains 
the  possibility  of  this  moral  infinity  and  a striving  for  its  realisation, 
i.e.  for  the  apprehension  of  the  Divine.  A dumb  creature  striving 
towards  reason  is  a mere  animal,  but  a being  actually  possessed  of 
reason  ceases  to  be  an  animal  and  becomes  man,  forming  a new 
kingdom  not  to  be  deduced  by  a simple  continuous  evolution  from 
the  lower  types.  Similarly,  this  new  being,  rational,  though  not 
wholly  rational,  imperfect  and  only  striving  towards  perfection,  is 
a mere  man,  while  a being  possessing  perfection  cannot  be  merely 
human.  He  is  a revelation  of  a new  and  final  Kingdom  of  God, 
in  which  not  the  relative  but  the  absolute  Good  or  worth  is 
realised,  not  to  be  deduced  from  the  relative  ; for  the  distinction 
is  one  of  quality  and  not  of  quantity  or  degree. 

The  divine  man  differs  from  the  ordinary  man  not  by  being 
a represented  ideal  but  by  being  a realised  ideal.  The  false  idealism 
which  takes  the  ideal  to  be  non-existent,  and  thinks  its  realisation 
unnecessary,  is  not  worth  criticising.  But  there  is  another  question 
involved  here  which  must  be  reckoned  with.  While  admitting 


i Q2  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

that  the  divine  or  perfect  man  must  have  reality,  and  not  merely 
significance  for  thought,  one  may  deny  the  historical  fact  of  His 
appearance  in  the  past.  Such  denial,  however,  has  no  rational 
grounds,  and,  moreover,  it  robs  the  process  of  universal  history  of 
all  meaning.  If  the  historical  person  known  to  us  from  the  books 
of  the  New  Testament  was  not  the  God-man  or,  in  Kant’s 
terminology,  the  realised  1 ideal,’  He  could  only  be  the  natural 
product  of  historical  evolution.  But  in  that  case  why  did  not  this 
evolution  go  further  in  the  same  direction  and  produce  other  persons 
still  more  perfect  ? Why  is  it  that  after  Christ  there  is  progress 
in  all  spheres  of  life  except  in  the  fundamental  sphere  of  personal 
spiritual  power  ? Every  one  who  does  not  deliberately  shut  his 
eyes  must  admit  the  gulf  there  is  between  the  noblest  type  of 
natural,  searching  wisdom  immortalised  by  Xenophanes  in  his 
notes  and  by  Plato  in  his  dialogues,  and  the  radiant  manifestation 
of  triumphant  spirituality  which  is  preserved  in  the  Gospels  and 
had  blinded  Saul  in  order  to  regenerate  him.  And  yet,  less  than 
four  centuries  elapsed  between  Socrates  and  Christ.  If  during 
this  short  period  historical  evolution  could  produce  such  an  increase 
of  spiritual  force  in  human  personality,  how  is  it  that  during  a 
far  longer  time,  and  in  a period  of  rapid  historical  progress,  evolution 
has  proved  utterly  powerless  not  only  to  bring  about  a corresponding 
advance  in  personal  spiritual  perfection,  but  even  to  keep  it  on  the 
same  level  ? Spinoza  and  Kant,  who  lived  sixteen  and  seventeen 
centuries  after  Christ,  and  were  very  noble  types  of  natural  wisdom, 
may  well  be  compared  with  Socrates,  but  it  would  not  occur  to  any 
one  to  compare  them  with  Christ.  It  is  not  because  they  had  a 
different  sphere  of  activity.  Take  men  celebrated  in  the  religious 
sphere — Mahomet,  Savonarola,  Luther,  Calvin,  Ignatius  Loyola,1 
Fox,  Swedenborg.  All  these  were  men  of  powerful  personality  ; 
but  try  honestly  to  compare  them  with  Christ  ! And  historical 
characters,  such  as  St.  Francis,  who  come  nearest  to  the  moral 
ideal,  definitely  acknowledge  their  direct  dependence  upon  Christ 
as  a higher  being. 

1 It  will  be  remembered  that  Auguste  Comte,  in  some  letters  he  wrote  shortly 
before  his  death,  declared  Ignatius  Loyola  to  be  higher  than  Christ.  But  this  judgment, 
as  well  as  other  similar  opinions  and  actions  of  the  founder  of  the  Positivist  philosophy, 
prove  to  all  unprejudiced  critics  that  the  thinker  in  question,  who  had  in  his  youth 
suffered  for  two  years  with  brain  disease,  was  in  the  last  years  of  his  life  once  more  on 
the  verge  of  insanity.  See  my  article  on  Comte  in  the  Brockhaus-EJron  Encyclopaedia. 


THE  REALITY  OF  THE  MORAL  ORDER  193 


VI 

If  Christ  represents  only  a relative  stage  of  moral  perfection, 
the  absence  of  any  further  stages  during  almost  two  thousand 
years  of  the  spiritual  growth  of  humanity  is  utterly  incompre- 
hensible. If  He  is  the  absolutely  highest  type  produced  by  the 
process  of  natural  evolution,  He  ought  to  have  appeared  at  the  end 
and  not  in  the  middle  of  history.  But  indeed  He  could  not  in  any 
case  be  a simple  product  of  historical  evolution,  for  the  difference 
between  absolute  and  relative  perfection  is  not  one  of  quantity  or 
degree,  but  is  qualitative  and  essential,  and  it  is  logically  impossible 
to  deduce  the  first  from  the  second. 

The  meaning  of  history  in  its  concrete  development  compels 
us  to  recognise  in  Jesus  Christ  not  the  last  word  of  the  human 
kingdom,  but  the  first  and  all-embracing  Word  of  the  Kingdom 
of  God — not  the  man-god,  but  the  God-man,  or  the  absolute 
individual.  From  this  point  of  view  it  can  be  well  understood 
why  He  first  appeared  in  the  middle  of  history  and  not  at  the  end 
of  it.  The  purpose  of  the  world-process  is  the  revelation  of  the 
Kingdom  of  God  or  of  the  perfect  moral  order  realised  by  a new 
humanity  which  spiritually  grows  out  of  the  God-man.  It  is  clear, 
then,  that  this  universal  event  must  be  preceded  by  the  individual 
appearance  of  the  God-man  Himself.  As  the  first  half  of  history 
up  to  Christ  was  preparing  the  environment  or  the  external 
conditions  for  His  individual  birth,  so  the  second  half  prepares  the 
external  conditions  for  His  universal  revelation  or  for  the  coming 
of  the  Kingdom  of  God.  Here  once  more  the  general  and  logically 
certain  law  of  the  universe  finds  application : the  higher  type  of 
being  is  not  created  by  the  preceding  process  but  is  phenomenally 
conditioned  by  it.  The  Kingdom  of  God  is  not  a product  of 
Christian  history  any  more  than  Christ  was  a product  of  the  Jewish 
and  the  Pagan  history.  History  merely  worked  out  in  the  past  and 
is  working  out  now  the  necessary  natural  and  moral  conditions 
for  the  revelation  of  the  God-man  and  the  divine  humanity. 

VII 

By  His  word  and  the  work  of  His  whole  life,  beginning  with 
the  victory  over  all  the  temptations  of  the  moral  evil  and  ending 

o 


194  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

with  the  resurrection,  i.e.  the  victory  over  the  physical  evil  or  the 
law  of  death  and  corruption,  the  true  God-man  has  revealed  to  men 
the  Kingdom  of  God.  But,  according  to  the  very  meaning  and 
law  of  this  new  Kingdom,  revelation  cannot  in  this  case  coincide 
with  attainment.  In  making  real  the  absolute  significance  of  each 
person  the  perfect  moral  order  presupposes  the  moral  freedom  of 
each.  But  true  freedom  is  acquired  by  the  finite  spirit  through 
experience  only.  Free  choice  is  only  possible  for  the  person  who 
knows  or  has  experienced  that  which  he  is  choosing  as  well  as  its 
opposite.  And  although  Christ  finally  conquered  evil  in  the  true 
centre  of  the  universe,  i.e.  in  Himself,  the  victory  over  evil  on  the 
circumference  of  the  world,  i.e.  in  the  collective  whole  of  humanity, 
has  to  be  accomplished  through  humanity’s  own  experience. 
This  necessitates  a new  process  of  development  in  the  Christian 
world  which  has  been  baptized  into  Christ  but  has  not  yet  put 
on  Christ.1 

The  true  foundation  of  the  perfect  moral  order  is  the  uni- 
versality of  the  spirit  of  Christ  capable  of  embracing  and  re- 
generating all  things.  The  essential  task  of  humanity,  then,  is 
to  accept  Christ  and  regard  everything  in  His  spirit,  thus  enabling 
His  spirit  to  become  incarnate  in  everything.  For  this  incarnation 
cannot  be  a physical  event  only.  The  individual  incarnation  of 
the  Word  of  God  required  the  consent  of  a personal  feminine  will  : 
“ Be  it  unto  Me  according  to  Thy  word.”  The  universal 
incarnation  of  the  Spirit  of  Christ  or  the  manifestation  of  the 
Kingdom  of  God  requires  the  consent  of  the  collective  will  of 
humanity,  that  all  things  should  be  united  to  God.  In  order  that 
this  consent  should  be  fully  conscious,  Christ  must  be  understood 
not  only  as  the  absolute  principle  of  the  good,  but  as  the  fulness  of 
good.  In  other  words,  there  must  be  established  a Christian  (and 
an  antichristian)  relation  to  all  aspects  and  spheres  of  human 
life.  In  order  that  this  consent  should  be  perfectly  free,  that  it 
should  be  a true  moral  act  or  a fulfilment  of  the  inner  truth  and 
not  the  effect  of  an  overwhelming  superior  force,  it  was  necessary 
for  Christ  to  withdraw  into  the  transcendental  sphere  of  the 

1 The  least  attention  on  the  part  of  the  reader  will  convince  him  that  I have  not 
given  any  ground  for  serious  critics  to  reproach  me  with  the  absurd  identification  of  the 
Kingdom  of  God  with  historical  Christianity  or  the  visible  Church  (which  one?).  I 
reject  such  identification  both  implicitly  and  explicitly  ; nor  do  I recognise  every 
scoundrel  who  has  been  baptized  as  a spiritual  ’ man  or  ‘ a son  of  God.’ 


THE  REALITY  OF  THE  MORAL  ORDER  195 

invisible  reality  and  to  withhold  His  active  influence  from  human 
history.  It  will  become  manifest  when  human  society  as  a 
whole,  and  not  merely  separate  individuals,  is  ready  for  a 
conscious  and  free  choice  between  the  absolute  good  and  its 
opposite.  The  unconditional  moral  demand,  u Be  ye  perfect  even 
as  your  Father  in  heaven  is  perfect,”  is  addressed  to  each  man, 
not  as  a separate  entity  but  as  together  with  others  (be  yet  not 
be  thou).  And  if  this  demand  is  understood  and  accepted  as 
an  actual  problem  of  life,  it  inevitably  introduces  us  into  the 
realm  of  conditions  which  determine  the  concrete  historical 
existence  of  society  or  the  collective  man. 


PART  III 

THE  GOOD  THROUGH  HUMAN  HISTORY 


197 


CHAPTER  I 


THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND  SOCIETY 

I 

We  know  that  the  good  in  its  full  sense,  including  the  idea  of 
happiness  or  satisfaction,  is  ultimately  defined  as  the  true  moral 
order  which  expresses  the  absolutely  right  and  the  absolutely  desirable 
relation  of  each  to  all  and  of  all  to  each.  It  is  called  the  Kingdom 
of  God.  From  the  moral  point  of  view  it  is  quite  clear  that  the 
realisation  of  the  Kingdom  of  God  is  the  only  final  end  of  life  and 
activity,  being  the  supreme  good,  happiness,  and  bliss.  It  is 
equally  clear,  if  one  thinks  of  the  subject  carefully  and  concretely, 
that  the  true  moral  order  or  the  Kingdom  of  God  is  both  perfectly 
universal  and  perfectly  individual.  Each  wants  it  for  himself  and 
for  every  one,  and  is  only  able  to  attain  it  together  with  every  one. 
Therefore  there  can  be  no  essential  opposition  between  the 
individual  and  society  ; the  question  which  of  the  two  is  an  end 
and  which  is  merely  a means  cannot  be  asked.  Such  a question 
would  presuppose  the  real  existence  of  the  individual  as  a self- 
sufficient  and  self-contained  entity.  In  truth,  however,  each 
individual  is  only  the  meeting-point  of  an  infinite  number  of 
relations  with  other  individuals.  To  abstract  him  from  these 
relations  means  to  deprive  his  life  of  all  its  concrete  filling-in  and 
to  transform  a personality  into  an  empty  possibility  of  existence.  To 
imagine  that  the  personal  centre  of  our  being  is  really  cut  off  from 
our  environment  and  from  the  general  life  which  connects  us  with 
other  minds  is  simply  a morbid  illusion  of  self-consciousness. 

When  a line  is  chalked  before  the  eyes  of  a cock,  he  takes 
that  line  to  be  a fatal  obstacle  which  he  cannot  possibly  over- 
step. He  is  evidently  incapable  of  understanding  that  the  fatal, 

199 


200  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

overwhelming  significance  of  the  chalk  line  is  due  simply  to 
the  fact  that  he  is  exclusively  occupied  with  this  unusual  and 
unexpected  fact,  and  is  therefore  not  free  with  regard  to  it.  The 
delusion  is  quite  natural  for  a cock,  but  is  less  natural  for  a 
rational  thinking  human  being.  Nevertheless  human  beings  fail 
but  too  frequently  to  grasp  that  the  given  limitations  of  our 
personality  are  insuperable  and  impermeable  solely  because  our 
attention  is  exclusively  concentrated  on  them.  The  fatal  separate- 
ness of  our  ‘self’  from  all  else  is  due  simply  to  the  fact  that  we 
imagine  it  to  be  fatal.  We  too  are  victims  of  auto-suggestion, 
which,  though  it  has  certain  objective  grounds,  is  as  fictitious  and 
as  easily  got  over  as  the  chalked  line. 

The  self-deception  in  virtue  of  which  a human  individual 
regards  himself  as  real  in  his  separateness  from  all  things,  and 
presupposes  this  fictitious  isolation  to  be  the  true  ground  and  the 
only  possible  starting-point  for  all  his  relations  — this  self- 
deception  of  abstract  subjectivism  plays  terrible  havoc  not  only  in 
the  domain  of  metaphysics — which,  indeed,  it  abolishes  altogether 
— but  also  in  the  domain  of  the  moral  and  political  life.  It  is  the 
source  of  many  involved  theories,  irreconcilable  contradictions,  and 
insoluble  questions.  But  all  of  them  would  disappear  of  them- 
selves if,  without  being  afraid  of  authoritative  names,  we  would 
grasp  the  simple  fact  that  the  theories  and  the  insoluble  problems 
in  question  could  only  have  arisen  from  the  point  of  view  of  the 
hypnotised  cock. 

II 

Human  personality,  and  therefore  every  individual  human 
being,  is  capable  of  realising  infinite  fulness  of  being , or,  in  other 
words,  it  is  a particular  form  with  infinite  content.  The  reason  of 
man  contains  an  infinite  possibility  of  a truer  and  truer  know- 
ledge of  the  meaning  of  all  things.  The  will  of  man  contains  an 
equally  infinite  possibility  of  a more  and  more  perfect  realisation 
of  this  universal  meaning  in  the  particular  life  and  environment. 
Human  personality  is  infinite  : this  is  an  axiom  of  moral  philo- 
sophy. But  the  moment  that  abstract  subjectivism  draws  its  chalk 
line  before  the  eyes  of  the  unwary  thinker  the  most  fruitful  of 
axioms  becomes  a hopeless  absurdity.  Human  personality  as 


THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND  SOCIETY 


201 


containing  infinite  possibilities  is  abstracted  from  all  the  concrete 
conditions  and  results  of  its  realisation  in  and  through  society — 
and  is  indeed  opposed  to  them.  There  ensues  insoluble  con- 
tradiction between  the  individual  and  society,  and  the  c fatal 
question  ’ arises  as  to  which  of  the  two  must  be  sacrificed  to  the 
other.  Persons  hypnotised  by  the  individualistic  view  affirm  the 
independence  of  separate  personality  which  determines  all  its 
relations  from  within,  and  regard  social  ties  and  collective  order  as 
merely  an  external  limit  and  an  arbitrary  restriction  which  must 
at  any  cost  be  removed.  On  the  other  hand,  thinkers  who  are 
under  the  spell  of  collectivism  take  the  life  of  humanity  to  be  simply 
an  interplay  of  human  masses,  and  regard  the  individual  as  an 
insignificant  and  transient  element  of  society,  who  has  no  rights 
of  his  own,  and  may  be  left  out  of  account  for  the  sake  of  the  so- 
called  common  good.  But  what  are  we  to  make  of  society 
consisting  of  moral  zeros,  of  rightless  and  non-individual  creatures  ? 
Would  it  be  human  society?  Where  would  its  dignity  and 
the  inner  value  of  its  existence  spring  from,  and  wherein  would  it 
lie  ? And  how  could  such  a society  hold  together  ? It  is  clear 
that  this  is  nothing  but  a sad  and  empty  dream,  which  neither 
could  nor  ought  to  be  realised.  The  opposite  ideal  of  self- 
sufficient  personality  is  equally  chimeric.  Deprive  a concrete 
human  personality  of  all  that  is  in  any  way  due  to  its  relations 
with  social  and  collective  wholes,  and  the  only  thing  left  will  be 
an  animal  entity  containing  only  a pure  possibility  or  an  empty 
form  of  man— that  is,  something  that  does  not  really  exist  at  all. 
Those  who  had  occasion  to  go  down  to  hell  or  to  rise  up  to 
heaven,  as,  for  instance,  Dante  and  Swedenborg,  did  not  find 
even  there  any  isolated  individuals,  but  saw  only  social  groups  and 
circles. 

Social  life  is  not  a condition  superadded  to  the  individual  life, 
but  is  contained  in  the  very  definition  of  personality  which  is 
essentially  a rationally-knowing  and  a morally-active  force — both 
knowing  and  acting  being  only  possible  in  the  life  of  a com- 
munity. Rational  knowledge  on  its  formal  side  is  conditioned  by 
general  notions  which  express  a unity  of  meaning  in  an  endless 
multiplicity  of  events  ; real  and  objective  universality  (the  general 
meaning)  of  notions  manifests  itself  in  language  as  a means  of 
communication,  without  which  rational  activity  cannot  develop, 


202  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

and,  for  lack  of  realisation,  gradually  disappears  altogether  or 
becomes  merely  potential.  Language — this  concrete  reason — 

could  not  have  been  the  work  of  an  isolated  individual,  and -con- 
sequently such  an  individual  could  not  be  rational,  could  not  be 
human.  On  its  material  side  knowledge  of  truth  is  based  upon 
experience — hereditary,  collective  experience  which  is  being 
gradually  stored  up.  The  experience  of  an  absolutely  isolated 
being,  even  if  such  a being  could  exist,  would  obviously  be  quite 
insufficient  for  the  knowledge  of  truth.  As  to  the  moral 
determination  of  personality,  it  is  clear  that,  although  the  idea  of 
the  good  or  of  moral  value  is  not  wholly  due  to  social  relations  as 
is  often  maintained,  concrete  development  of  human  morality 
or  the  realisation  of  the  idea  of  the  good  is  only  possible  for  the 
individual  in  a social  environment  and  through  interaction  with  it. 
In  this  all-important  respect  society  is  nothing  but  the  objective 
realisation  of  what  is  contained  in  the  individual. 

Instead  of  an  insoluble  contradiction  between  two  mutually  ex- 
clusive principles — between  two  abstract  isms, — we  really  find  two 
correlative  terms  each  of  which  logically  and  historically  requires 
and  presupposes  the  other.  In  its  essential  signification  society  is 
not  the  external  limit  of  the  individual  but  his  inner  fulfilment.  It 
is  not  an  arithmetical  sum  or  a mechanical  aggregate  of  the  indi- 
viduals that  compose  it,  but  the  indivisible  whole  of  the  communal 
life.  This  life  has  been  partly  realised  in  the  past  and  is  preserved 
in  the  abiding  social  tradition , is  being  partly  realised  in  the 
present  by  means  of  social  service , and  finally,  it  anticipates  in 
the  form  of  a social  ideal , present  in  the  best  minds,  its  perfect 
realisation  in  the  future. 

Corresponding  to  these  three  fundamental  and  abiding 
moments  of  the  individually-social  life — the  religious,  the  political, 
and  the  prophetic — there  are  three  main  concrete  stages  through 
which  human  life  and  consciousness  pass  in  the  course  of  the 
historical  development,  namely,  (i)  the  stage  of  organisation  based 
upon  kinship,  which  belongs  to  the  past  though  it  is  still  preserved 
in  a changed  form  in  the  family  ; (2)  the  national  state , prevalent 
at  the  present  time  ; and  finally  (3)  the  universal  communion  of 
life,  as  the  ideal  of  the  future. 

At  all  these  stages  society  is  essentially  the  moral  fulfilment  or 
the  realisation  of  the  individual  in  a given  environment.  But  the 


THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND  SOCIETY 


203 


environment  is  not  always  the  same.  At  the  first  stage  it  is 
limited  for  each  to  his  own  tribe  ; at  the  second,  to  his  own  father- 
land  ; and  it  is  only  at  the  third  that  the  human  personality,  having 
attained  a clear  consciousness  of  its  inner  infinity,  endeavours  to 
realise  it  in  a perfect  society,  abolishing  all  limitations  both  in  the 
nature  and  in  the  extent  of  concrete  interaction. 

Ill 

Each  single  individual  possesses  as  such  the  potentiality  of 
perfection  or  of  positive  infinity,  namely,  the  capacity  to  under- 
stand all  things  with  his  intellect  and  to  embrace  all  things  with 
his  heart,  or  to  enter  into  a living  communion  with  everything. 
This  double  infinity — the  power  of  conception  and  the  power  of 
striving  and  activity,  called  in  the  Bible,  according  to  the  inter- 
pretation of  the  Fathers  of  the  Church,  the  image  and  likeness  of 
God — necessarily  belongs  to  every  person.  It  is  in  this  that  the 
absolute  significance,  dignity,  and  worth  of  human  personality 
consists,  and  this  is  the  basis  of  its  inalienable  rights.1  It  is  clear 
that  the  realisation  of  this  infinity,  or  the  actuality  of  the 
perfection,  demands  that  all  should  participate  in  it.  It  cannot 
be  the  private  possession  of  each  taken  separately , but  becomes  his 
through  his  relation  to  all.  In  other  words,  by  remaining  isolated 
and  limited  an  individual  deprives  himself  of  the  real  fulness  of 
life,  Le.  deprives  himself  of  perfection  and  of  infinity.  A con- 
sistent affirmation  of  his  own  separateness  or  isolation  would 
indeed  be  physically  impossible  for  the  individual  person.  All 
that  the  life  of  the  community  contains  is  bound  in  one  way  or 
another  to  affect  individual  persons  ; it  becomes  a part  of  them 
and  in  and  through  them  alone  attains  its  final  actuality  or 
completion.  Or  if  we  look  at  the  same  thing  from  another  point 
of  view — all  the  real  content  of  the  personal  life  is  obtained  from 
the  social  environment  and,  in  one  way  or  another,  is  conditioned 
by  its  state  at  the  given  time.  In  this  sense  it  may  be  said  that 

1 This  meaning  of  the  image  and  likeness  of  God  is  essentially  the  same  as  that 
indicated  in  Part  II.  It  is  clear,  indeed,  that  an  infinite  power  of  conception  and 
understanding  can  only  give  us  the  image  (‘  the  schema  ’)  of  perfection,  while  an  infinite 
striving,  having  for  its  purpose  the  actual  realisation  of  perfection,  is  the  beginning  of 
our  likeness  to  God,  who  is  the  real  and  not  only  the  ideal  perfection. 


204  THE  justification  of  the  good 


society  is  the  completed  or  magnified  individual , and  the  individual 
is  compressed  or  concentrated  society. 

The  world  purpose  is  not  to  create  a solidarity  between  each 
and  all,  for  it  already  exists  in  the  nature  of  things,  but  to  make 
each  and  all  aware  of  this  solidarity  and  spiritually  alive  to  it  ; to 
transform  it  from  a merely  metaphysical  and  physical  solidarity 
into  a morally-metaphysical  and  a morally-physical  one.  The 
life  of  man  already  is,  both  at  its  lower  and  its  upper  limit,  an  in- 
voluntary participation  in  the  developing  life  of  humanity  and  of 
the  whole  world.  But  the  dignity  of  human  life  and  the  meaning 
of  the  universe  as  a whole  demand  that  this  involuntary  partici- 
pation of  each  in  everything  should  become  voluntary  and  be 
more  and  more  conscious  and  free,  i.e.  really  personal — that  each 
should  more  and  more  understand  and  fulfil  the  common  work  as 
if  it  were  his  own.  It  is  clear  that  in  this  way  alone  can  the 
infinite  significance  of  personality  be  realised  or,  in  other  words, 
pass  from  possibility  to  actuality. 

But  this  transition  itself — this  spiritualisation  or  moralisation 
of  the  natural  fact  of  solidarity — is  also  an  inseparable  part  of  the 
common  work.  The  fulfilment  of  this  supreme  task  depends  not 
upon  personal  efforts  alone,  but  is  also  necessarily  conditioned  by 
the  general  course  of  the  world’s  history,  or  by  the  actual  state  of 
the  social  environment  at  a given  moment  in  history.  Thus  the 
individual  improvement  in  each  man  cannot  be  severed  from  the 
universal,  nor  the  personal  morality  from  the  social. 

IV 

True  morality  is  the  rightful  interaction  between  the  indi- 
vidual and  his  environment — taking  the  term  environment  in  the 
wide  sense  to  embrace  all  spheres  of  reality — the  higher  as  well  as 
the  lower — with  which  man  stands  in  the  practical  relation.  The 
true  personal  dignity  of  each  undoubtedly  finds  expression  and 
embodiment  in  his  relations  to  his  surroundings.  The  infinite 
possibilities  inherent  in  the  very  nature  of  man  gradually  become 
realised  in  this  individually-social  reality.  Historical  experience 
finds  man  as  already  having  his  completion  in  a certain  social 
milieu,  and  the  subsequent  course  of  history  is  nothing  but  a 


THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND  SOCIETY 


205 


refinement  and  enlargement  of  this  double-sided  individually-social 
life.  The  three  main  stages  or  strata  in  this  process  that  have 
been  indicated  above — the  patriarchal,  the  national,  and  the 
universal — are  of  course  connected  by  a number  of  intermediate 
links.  A higher  form  does  not  replace  or  entirely  cancel  the 
lower,  but,  absorbing  it  into  itself,  makes  it  a subordinate  part 
instead  of  an  independent  whole.  Thus  with  the  appearance  of 
the  state  the  tribal  union  becomes  a subordinate  part  of  it  in  the 
form  of  the  family.  But  the  relation  of  kinship,  so  far  from  being 
abolished,  acquires  a greater  moral  depth.  It  merely  changes  its 
sociological  and  judicial  significance,  ceasing  to  be  a seat  of 
independent  authority  or  of  jurisdiction  of  its  own. 

As  the  lower  forms  of  the  collective  life  pass  into  the  higher, 
the  individual,  in  virtue  of  the  infinite  potentiality  of  understanding 
and  of  striving  for  the  better  latent  in  him,  appears  as  the  principle 
of  progress  and  of  movement  (the  dynamic  element  in  history), 
while  the  social  environment,  being  a reality  already  achieved, 
a completed  objectification  of  the  moral  content  in  a certain 
sphere  and  at  a certain  stage,  naturally  represents  the  stable, 
conservative  principle  (the  static  element  of  history).  When  in- 
dividuals who  are  more  gifted  or  more  developed  than  others 
begin  to  be  conscious  that  their  social  environment  is  no  longer  a 
realisation  or  a completion  of  their  life,  but  is  simply  an  external 
barrier  and  obstacle  to  their  positive  moral  aspirations,  they 
become  the  bearers  of  a higher  social  consciousness  which  seeks 
embodiment  in  new  forms  and  in  a new  order  of  life  that  would 
correspond  to  it. 

All  social  environment  is  the  objective  expression  or  embodi- 
ment of  morality  (of  right  relations)  at  a certain  stage  of  human 
development.  But  the  moral  agent,  in  virtue  of  his  striving 
towards  the  absolute  good,  outgrows  a given  limited  form  of 
morality  embodied  in  the  social  structure  and  takes  up  a negative 
attitude  towards  it — not  towards  it  as  such,  but  towards  the  given 
lower  stage  of  its  embodiment.  It  is  obvious  that  such  a conflict 
is  not  an  opposition  of  principle  between  the  individual  and  the 
social  element,  but  is  simply  an  opposition  between  the  earlier  and 
the  later  stages  of  the  individually-social  development. 


206  the  justification  of  the  good 


V 

The  moral  worth  and  dignity  of  man  finds  its  first  expression 
in  social  life  as  deterrnined  by  kinship}  We  find  in  it  a rudimentary 
embodiment  or  organisation  of  morality  as  a whole — religious, 
altruistic,  and  ascetic.  In  other  words,  a group  held  together  by 
the  tie  of  kinship  is  the  realisation  of  personal  human  dignity  in 
the  narrowest  and  most  fundamental  sphere  of  society.  The  first 
condition  of  the  true  dignity  of  man — reverence  for  that  which 
is  higher  than  himself,  for  the  super-material  powers  that  rule 
his  life — here  finds  expression  in  the  worship  of  the  ancestors  or 
of  the  founders  of  the  clan.  The  second  condition  of  personal 
dignity — the  recognition  of  the  dignity  of  others — is  found  in  the 
solidarity  of  the  members  of  the  group,  their  mutual  affection  and 
consideration.  The  third,  or,  from  another  point  of  view,  the 
first  condition  of  human  dignity — freedom  from  the  predominance 
of  carnal  desires — is  here  to  some  extent  attained  by  means  of 
certain  compulsory  limitation  or  regulation  of  the  sexual  relations 
through  the  different  forms  of  marriage  and  also  by  means  of 
other  restraining  rules  of  the  communal  life,  all  of  which  de- 
mand the  shame  to  which  the  ancient  chronicler  refers. 

Thus  in  this  primitive  circle  of  human  life  the  moral  dignity 
of  the  person  is  in  all  respects  realised  by  the  community  and  in 
the  community.  How  can  there  be  any  contradiction  and  con- 
flict here  between  the  individual  and  the  collective  principle  and 
what  expression  can  it  assume  ? The  relation  between  the  two 
is  direct  and  positive.  The  social  law  is  not  extraneous  to  the 
individual,  it  is  not  imposed  upon  him  from  without  contrary  to 
his  nature  ; it  merely  gives  a definite,  objective,  and  constant  form 
to  the  inward  motives  of  personal  morality.  Thus  the  person’s 
inner  religious  feeling  (rudiments  of  which  are  already  found  in 
certain  animals)  impels  him  to  hold  in  reverence  the  secret  causes 
and  conditions  of  his  existence — and  the  cult  of  ancestor  worship 
merely  gives  an  objective  expression  to  this  desire.  The  feeling 
of  pity,  equally  inherent  in  man,  inclines  him  to  treat  his  relatives 
with  fairness  — the  social  law  merely  confirms  this  personal 

1 I am  speaking  of  kinship  in  the  wide  sense  and  have  in  mind  a group  of  persons 
forming  one  self-contained  community,  united  by  the  blood-tie  and  intermarriage, 
whether  the  connection  between  them  takes  the  form  of  mother-right  or  of  father-right. 


THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND  SOCIETY 


207 


altruism  by  giving  it  a fixed  and  definite  form  and  making  it 
capable  of  realisation  ; thus  the  defence  of  the  weak  members  of 
the  social  group  from  injury  is  impossible  for  a single  individual 
to  undertake,  but  is  organised  by  the  clan  as  a whole  or  by  a 
union  of  clans.  Finally,  man’s  inherent  modesty  finds  realisation 
in  definite  social  rules  of  abstinence.  Personal  morality  cannot 
be  separated  from  the  social,  for  the  first  is  the  inner  beginning  of 
the  second,  and  the  second  the  objective  realisation  of  the  first. 
The  rules  of  social  life  at  the  patriarchal  stage — worship  of  common 
ancestors,  mutual  help  between  the  individual  members  of  the 
clan,  limitation  of  sensuality  by  marriage — have  a moral  source 
and  character,  and  it  is  clear  that  to  carry  out  these  social  rules  is 
a gain  and  not  a loss  to  the  individual.  The  more  an  individual 
member  of  a clan  enters  into  the  spirit  of  its  social  structure, 
which  demands  reverence  for  the  unseen,  solidarity  with  his 
neighbours,  and  control  of  carnal  passions,  obviously  the  more 
moral  he  becomes  ; and  the  more  moral  he  is,  the  higher  is  his 
inner  worth  or  personal  dignity  ; thus  subordination  to  society  up- 
lifts the  individual.  On  the  other  hand,  the  more  free  this  sub- 
ordination, the  more  independently  does  the  individual  follow  the 
inner  promptings  of  his  own  moral  nature  which  accord  with  the 
demands  of  social  morality,  the  greater  support  does  the  society 
find  in  such  a person  ; therefore  the  independence  of  the  individual 
lends  strength  to  the  social  order.  In  other  words,  the  relation 
between  the  true  significance  of  the  individual  and  the  true  force 
of  society  is  a direct  and  not  an  inverse  one. 

What  concrete  form,  then,  could  the  principle  of  the  opposition 
of  the  individual  to  society  and  of  his  superiority  to  it  take  at 
this  early  stage  ? Perhaps  the  supposed  champion  of  the  rights 
of  the  individual  would  desecrate  the  tombs  of  his  ancestors, 
insult  his  father,  outrage  his  mother,  kill  his  brothers,  and  marry 
his  own  sisters  ? It  is  clear  that  such  actions  are  below  the  very 
lowest  social  level,  and  it  is  equally  clear  that  true  realisation  of 
absolute  human  dignity  cannot  be  based  upon  a simple  rejection 
of  a given  social  structure. 

VI 

The  moral  content  of  social  life  as  determined  by  kinship  is 
permanent ; its  external  and  limited  form  is  inevitably  outgrown 


208  the  justification  of  the  good 

by  the  historical  process,  with  the  active  help  of  individuals. 
The  first  expansion  of  the  primitive  life  is,  of  course,  due  to  the 
natural  increase  of  population.  Within  the  limits  of  one  and 
the  same  family  the  more  intimate  degrees  of  kinship  are  followed 
by  the  more  remote,  although  the  moral  duties  extend  to  the 
latter  also.  Similarly  to  the  progressive  division  of  a living 
organic  cell,  the  social  cell — the  group  united  by  kinship — divides 
into  many  groups,  which  preserve,  however,  their  connection 
and  the  memory  of  their  common  descent.  Thus  a new  social 
unit  is  formed — the  tribe  — which  embraces  several  contiguous 
clans.  For  instance,  the  North  American  Red  Indian  tribe 
Seneca,  described  by  the  well-known  sociologist  Morgan, 
consisted  of  eight  independent  clans,  evidently  formed  by  the 
subdivision  of  one  original  clan,  and  standing  in  definite  relation 
to  one  another.  Each  clan  was  based  on  kinship,  and  marriages 
within  the  clan  were  strictly  forbidden  as  incestuous.  Each  clan 
was  autonomous,  though  in  certain  respects  subordinate  to  the 
common  authority  of  the  whole  tribe,  namely,  to  the  tribal 
council,  which  consisted  of  the  representatives  of  all  the  eight 
clans.  In  addition  to  this  political  and  military  institution,  the 
unity  of  the  tribe  found  expression  in  a common  language  and 
common  religious  celebrations.  The  transition  stage  between 
the  clan  and  the  tribe  were  the  groups  which  Morgan  designates 
by  the  classical  name  of  fratrias.  Thus  the  tribe  of  Seneca  was 
divided  into  two  fratrias , each  consisting  of  an  equal  number  of 
clans.  The  first  contained  the  clans  of  Wolf,  Bear,  Tortoise, 
Beaver ; the  second,  Deer,  Wood-cock,  Heron,  Falcon.  The 
clans  in  each  group  were  regarded  as  brother  clans,  and  in  relation 
to  the  clans  of  the  other  group  as  cousins.  It  is  clear  that  the 
original  clan  from  which  the  Seneca  tribe  was  descended  was  first 
divided  into  two  new  clans,  each  of  which  became  subdivided 
into  four,  and  this  succession  has  been  preserved  in  the  common 
memory. 

There  is  no  reason  why  the  consciousness  of  social  solidarity, 
extended  to  a group  of  clans,  should  stop  at  the  limits  of  the 
tribe.  The  widening  of  the  moral  outlook  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  recognised  advantages  of  common  action  on  the  other, 
induce  many  tribes  to  form  first  temporary  and,  later,  permanent 
alliances  with  one  another.  Thus  the  tribe  of  Seneca,  together 


THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND  SOCIETY 


209 


with  many  others,  entered  into  the  union  of  tribes  bearing  the 
common  name  of  Iroquois.  The  tribes  forming  such  unions 
are  generally,  though  not  necessarily,  supposed  to  have  a common 
ancestor.  It  often  happens  that  when  several  tribes  whose 
ancestors  had  parted  in  times  immemorial,  and  which  had  grown 
and  developed  independently  of  one  another,  come  together  again 
under  new  conditions,  they  form  a union  by  means  of  treaties  for 
the  sake  of  mutual  defence  and  common  enterprise.  The  treaty 
in  this  case  is  certainly  regarded  as  of  far  greater  significance 
than  the  blood-tie,  which  need  not  be  presupposed  at  all. 

The  union  of  tribes,  especially  of  those  that  have  reached 
a certain  degree  of  culture  and  occupy  a definite  territory,  is  the 
transition  to  a state,  the  embryo  of  a nation.  The  Iroquois, 
like  most  Red  Indian  tribes  who  remained  in  the  wild  forests 
and  prairies  of  North  America,  did  not  advance  further  than 
such  an  embryo  of  a nation  and  state.  But  other  representatives 
of  the  same  race,  moving  southwards,  fairly  rapidly  passed  from 
the  military  union  of  tribes  to  a permanent  political  organisation. 
The  Aztecs  of  Mexico,  the  Incas  of  Peru  founded  real  national 
states  of  the  same  type  as  the  great  theocratical  monarchies  of 
the  Old  World.  The  essential  inner  connection  between  the 
original  social  cell — the  group  united  by  kinship — and  the  wide 
political  organisation  is  clearly  expressed  in  the  word  fatherland , 
which  almost  in  all  languages  designates  the  national  state. 
The  term  fatherland,  implying  as  it  does  a relation  of  kinship 
( patria , Vaterland , etc.),  indicates  not  that  the  state  is  an  expansion 
of  the  family — which  is  not  true — but  that  the  moral  principle  of 
this  new  great  union  must  be  essentially  the  same  as  the  principle 
of  the  narrower  union  based  upon  kinship.  In  truth,  states  have 
arisen  out  of  wars  and  treaties,  but  this  does  not  alter  the  fact 
that  the  purpose  or  meaning  for  which  they  came  into  being 
was  to  establish  in  the  wide  circle  of  the  national,  and  even  the 
international,  relations  the  same  solidarity  and  peaceable  life  as  had 
existed  of  old  within  the  limits  of  the  family. 

The  process  of  the  formation  of  states  and  the  external 
changes  in  the  human  life  connected  with  it  do  not  concern  us 
here.  What  is  of  interest  to  ethics  is  the  moral  position  of  the 
individual  with  regard  to  his  new  social  environment.  So  long 
as  the  only  higher  forms  of  social  life,  in  contradistinction  to 

P 


210  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

the  clan,  were  found  in  the  tribe  and  the  union  of  tribes,  the 
position  of  the  individual  was  not  essentially  altered.  It  only 
changed,  so  to  speak,  quantitatively  : moral  consciousness 

received  greater  satisfaction  and  was  more  completely  realised 
as  the  sphere  of  practical  interaction  became  wider  ; and  that  was 
all.  The  divine  ancestor  of  a given  clan  found  brothers  in  the 
ancestors  of  other  clans,  each  other’s  deities  were  mutually 
recognised,  the  religions  of  separate  peoples  were  amalgamated 
and  to  a certain  extent  received  a universal  meaning  (at  the 
periods  of  tribal  festivities),  but  the  character  of  worship  remained 
the  same.  The  expression  of  human  solidarity — the  defence  of 
one’s  kinsmen  and  the  duty  of  avenging  their  wrongs- — also 
remained  intact  when  the  tribe  and  the  union  of  tribes  came 
to  be  formed.  Essential  change  took  place  only  with  the 
appearance  of  the  fatherland  and  the  state.  The  national 
religion  may  have  developed  out  of  ancestor  worship,  but  the 
people  have  themselves  forgotten  its  origin  ; similarly,  the 
dispassionate  justice  of  the  state  is  essentially  different  from 
blood-vengeance.  Here  we  have  not  simply  an  expansion  of 
the  old  order  based  upon  kinship,  but  the  appearance  of  a new 
one.  And  in  connection  with  this  new  order  of  the  national  state 
there  may  have  arisen,  and  there  did  arise,  a conflict  of  principle 
between  the  constituent  forces  of  society — a conflict  which 
might,  to  a superficial  observer,  appear  as  the  conflict  between 
the  individual  and  the  society  as  such. 

VII 

Neither  the  tribe,  nor  the  union  of  tribes,  nor  the  national 
state — the  fatherland — destroys  the  original  social  cell ; it  only 
alters  its  signification.  The  change  may  be  expressed  in  the 
following  short  but  perfectly  correct  formula  : the  state  order  trans- 
forms the  clan  into  the  family.  Indeed,  until  the  state  is  formed, 
family  life,  strictly  speaking,  does  not  exist.  The  group  of 
individuals  held  together  by  a more  or  less  intimate  blood-tie, 
which  in  primitive  times  forms  the  social  unit,  differs  from  the  real 
family  in  one  essential  respect.  The  distinguishing  characteristic 
of  the  family  is  that  it  is  a form  of  private,  in  contradistinction  to 
public,  life:  ‘a  public  family’  is  a contradiction  in  terms.  But 


THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND  SOCIETY 


21  I 


the  difference  between  public  and  private  could  only  have  arisen 
with  the  formation  and  the  development  of  the  state  which  essentially 
stands  for  the  public  aspect  of  common  life.  Until  then,  so  long 
as  the  legal  and  political  functions  of  the  social  life  were  still 
undifferentiated — when  judgment  and  execution,  war  and  peace 
were  still  the  private  concerns  of  the  primitive  groups  connected  by 
the  blood-tie — such  groups,  even  the  smallest  of  them,  obviously 
could  not  possess  the  distinguishing  characteristic  of  the  family 
or  home.  They  acquired  this  new  character  only  when  the 
functions  in  question  were  taken  over  by  the  state  as  a public 
or  national  organisation. 

Now  this  transformation  of  the  clan,  i.e.  of  the  political 
and  social  union,  into  the  family,  i.e.  into  an  exclusively  social, 
private,  or  home  union,  could  be  looked  upon  in  two  ways.  It 
might  be  regarded  as  involving  the  purification  of  the  tie  of 
kinship  which  thus  acquires  greater  inward  dignity,  or  as 
involving  its  external  lessening  and  degradation.1  Since  the 
duties  of  the  individual  to  his  clan  were  for  a long  time  the 
sole  expression  of  individual  morality,  conservative  and  passive 
natures  might  regard  the  submission  of  the  clan  to  a new  and 
higher  unity  of  the  state  or  fatherland  as  immoral.  The  personal 
consciousness  was  for  the  first  time  confronted  with  the  question 
as  to  which  of  the  two  social  unions  it  was  to  side  with— with 
the  more  narrow  and  intimate,  or  with  the  wider  and  more  remote. 
But  whichever  way  this  question  might  be  settled  by  this  or  that 
individual,  it  is  in  any  case  clear  that  this  is  not  a question  of  con- 
flict between  the  individual  and  society,  nor  even  between  two 
kinds  of  social  relation — the  relation  of  kinship  and  of  nationality. 
It  is  simply  a question  whether  human  life  should  stop  at  the  stage 
of  kinship  or  be  further  developed  by  means  of  the  organisation 
of  the  state. 

In  the  social  group  determined  by  kinship  with  its  moral 
conditions  and  institutions,  the  human  individual  can  realise  his 
inner  dignity  better  than  in  the  state  of  brutal  isolation.  History 

1 This  double  point  of  view  may  be  brought  out  by  an  analogous  example  from  quite 
a different  sphere  of  relations.  The  loss  by  the  Pope  of  his  political  power,  or 
the  abolition  of  the  Church-state,  may  be  regarded  even  by  good  and  genuine  Roman 
Catholics  in  two  different  and,  indeed,  opposite  ways.  It  may  be  taken  to  be  either  a 
favourable  condition  for  the  increase  of  the  inward  moral  authority  of  the  Pope,  or  a 
lamentable  detraction  and  decrease  in  the  scope  of  his  political  activity. 


212  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

has  proved  that  the  further  development  or  improvement  of  the 
individual  demands  the  more  complex  conditions  of  life  which  are 
to  be  found  in  civilised  states  only.  The  immature  fancy  of  the 
young  poet  may  glorify  the  half-savage  life  of  nomadic  gypsies  ; 
the  unanswerable  criticism  of  his  view  is  contained  in  the  simple 
fact  that  Pushkin,  a member  of  a civilised  community,  could  create 
his  Gypsies , while  the  gypsies,  in  spite  of  all  their  alleged  ad- 
vantages, could  not  create  a Pushkin.1 

All  the  things  whereby  our  spiritual  nature  is  nurtured,  all 
that  lends  beauty  and  dignity  to  our  life  in  the  sphere  of  religion, 
science  and  art,  has  sprung  from  the  foundation  of  ordinary 
civilised  life,  conditioned  by  the  order  of  the  state.  It  has  all  been 
created  not  by  the  clan  but  by  the  fatherland.  When  the  clan  life 
still  predominated,  the  men  who  took  their  stand  with  the 
fatherland,  which  till  then  was  non-existent  or  only  just  dawning 
on  their  own  inner  vision,  were  bearers  of  a higher  consciousness, 
of  a better  individually-social  morality.  They  were  benefactors 
of  humanity  and  saints  of  history,  and  it  is  not  for  nothing  that 
the  grateful  city-states  of  Greece  and  other  countries  did  homage 
to  them  as  their  heroes — the  eponyms. 

Social  progress  is  not  an  impersonal  work.  The  conflict  of 
individual  initiative  with  its  immediate  social  environment  led  to 
the  foundation  of  a wider  and  more  important  social  whole — the 
fatherland.  The  bearers  of  the  super-tribal  consciousness,  or,  more 
exactly,  of  the  half-conscious  striving  towards  a wider  moral  and 
social  life,  felt  cramped  in  the  narrow  sphere  of  the  clan  life,  broke 
away  from  it,  gathered  a band  of  free  followers  round  themselves, 
and  founded  states  and  cities.  The  pseudo-scientific  criticism 
has  arbitrarily  converted  into  a myth  the  fugitive  Dido  who  founded 
Carthage,  and  the  outlaw  brothers,  founders  of  Rome.  In  quite 
historical  times,  however,  we  find  a sufficient  number  of  instances 
to  inspire  us  with  legitimate  confidence  in  those  legends  of 
antiquity.  Personal  exploit  breaking  down  the  given  social  limits 
for  the  sake  of  creating  new  and  higher  forms  of  political  and 
social  life,  is  a fact  so  fundamental  that  it  is  bound  to  be  met  with 
at  all  periods  of  human  development.2 

1 The  same  poet,  however,  ‘ with  reverence  ’ dedicates  one  of  his  more  mature  works 
to  the  historian  of  the  Russian  Empire. 

2 The  absurdity  of  the  point  of  view  generally  assumed  by  the  negative  historical 


THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND  SOCIETY 


213 


The  historical  as  well  as  the  naturally-scientific  experience 
shows  that  it  is  impossible  for  a given  organised  group  to  break  up 
or  undergo  any  substantial  transformation  (for  instance,  to  enter 
into  another  and  a greater  whole)  apart  from  the  activity  of  the  finite 
units  which  compose  it.  The  ultimate  unit  of  human  society  is 
the  individual  who  has  always  been  the  active  principle  of  historical 
progress,  i.e.  of  the  transition  from  the  narrow  and  limited  forms 
of  life  to  social  organisations  that  are  wider  and  richer  in  content. 

VIII 

A given  narrow  social  group  (say,  a clan)  has  a claim  upon  the 
individual,  for  it  is  only  in  and  through  it  that  he  can  begin  to 
realise  his  own  inner  dignity.  But  the  rights  of  the  community 
over  the  individual  cannot  be  absolute , for  a given  group  in  its 
isolation  is  only  one  relative  stage  of  the  historical  development, 
while  human  personality  may  pass  through  all  the  stages  in  its 
striving  for  infinite  perfection,  which  is  obviously  not  exhausted 
or  finally  satisfied  by  any  limited  social  organisation.  In  other 
words,  in  virtue  of  his  inner  infinity  the  individual  can  be  absolutely 
and  entirely  at  one  with  the  social  environment  not  in  its  given  limita- 
tion:r,  but  only  in  its  infinite  completeness , which  becomes  gradually 
manifest  as  the  forms  of  social  life^  in  their  interaction  with  individual 
persons , become  wider , higher , and  more  perfect.  It  is  only  in  a com- 
munity that  personal  achievement  is  fruitful,  but  in  a community 
which  develops.  Unconditional  surrender  to  any  limited  and 
immovable  form  of  social  life,  so  far  from  being  the  duty  of  the 
individual,  is  positively  wrong,  for  it  could  only  be  to  the 
detriment  of  his  human  dignity. 

An  enterprising  member  of  the  clan  is,  then,  morally  righc  in 
rebelling  against  the  conservatism  of  the  clan,  and  in  helping  to  create 


criticism  escapes  general  ridicule  simply  owing  to  the  4 darkness  of  time,’  which  conceals 
the  objects  upon  which  it  is  exercised.  If  its  favourite  methods  and  considerations  were 
applied,  e.g.,  to  Mahomet  or  Peter  the  Great,  there  would  be  as  little  left  of  these 
historical  heroes  as  of  Dido  or  Romulus.  Every  one  who  has  read  Whateley’s  admirable 
pamphlet  on  Napoleon  will  agree  that  the  solar  significance  of  this  mythological  hero  is 
proved  in  it,  in  accordance  with  the  strict  rules  of  the  critical  school,  and  is  worked  out 
with  a consistency,  clearness,  and  completeness  not  often  to  be  found  in  the  more  or  less 
famous  works  of  the  negative  critics,  although  the  latter  wrote  without  the  least  irony 
but  with  the  most  serious  intentions. 


214  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


the  state  which  transforms  the  once  independent  social  groups 
into  elementary  cells  of  a new  and  greater  whole.  But  this  implies 
that  the  new  social  organisation  has  no  absolute  rights  over  the 
old,  tribal,  or,  henceforth,  family  relations.  The  order  of  the 
state  is  a relatively  higher  but  by  no  means  a perfect  form  of 
social  life,  and  it  therefore  has  only  a relative  advantage  over  the 
organisation  based  upon  kinship.  And  although  the  latter  is  merely 
a transitory  stage  in  the  social  development,  it  contains  a moral 
element  of  absolute  value,  which  retains  its  force  in  the  state  and 
must  be  sacred  to  it.  Indeed,  two  aspects  are  clearly  apparent 
in  primitive  morality.  In  the  first  place,  certain  moral  con- 
ceptions are  connected  with  the  idea  of  the  clan  as  an  independent 
or  autonomous  form  of  common  life — which,  in  fact,  it  had  been 
once,  but  ceased  to  be  when  the  state  was  formed.  This  is 
the  transitory  and  supersedable  element  of  the  clan  morality.  In 
the  second  place,  certain  natural  duties  arise  from  the  intimate  tie 
of  kinship  and  common  life,  and  these  obviously  retain  all  their 
significance  in  the  transition  to  the  state,  or  in  the  transformation 
of  the  clan  into  the  family.  The  hard  shell  of  the  clan  organisa- 
tion has  burst  and  fallen  apart,  but  the  moral  kernel  of  the  family  has 
remained,  and  will  remain  to  the  end  of  history.  Now  when  the 
transition  from  one  organisation  to  another  has  just  been  effected, 
the  representatives  of  the  newly-formed  state-power,  conscious  of 
its  advantages  over  the  clan  structure,  might  easily  ascribe  to  the 
new  order  an  absolute  significance  which  does  not  belong  to  it, 
and  place  the  law  of  the  state  above  the  law  of  nature.  In  con- 
flicts which  arise  on  this  ground,  moral  right  is  no  longer  on  the 
side  of  these  representatives  of  the  relatively  higher  social  order,  but 
on  the  side  of  the  champions  of  what  is  absolute  in  the  old,  and  of 
what  must  remain  equally  sacred  under  any  social  order.  Con- 
servatism now  ceases  to  be  a blind  or  selfish  inertness,  and  becomes 
a pure  consciousness  of  supreme  duty.  Woman,  the  incarnation 
of  the  conservative  principle,  the  bulwark  of  low  routine,  now 
becomes  the  embodiment  of  moral  heroism.  Sophocles’s  Antigone 
impersonates  the  element  of  absolute  value  contained  in  the  old 
order  of  life — the  element  which  retains  its  permanent  significance 
as  the  clan  becomes  the  family  within  the  new  organisation  of  the 
state.  She  has  no  thought  of  the  political  autonomy  of  the  clan, 
of  the  right  of  blood-vengeance,  etc.  ; she  simply  stands  up  for 


THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND  SOCIETY 


215 


her  unconditional  right  to  fulfil  her  unconditional  duty  of  piety 
and  sisterly  love — to  give  honourable  burial  to  her  nearest  kinsman 
who  can  receive  it  from  no  one  but  her.  She  has  no  enmity 
towards  the  moral  foundations  of  the  state ; she  simply  feels — 
and  quite  rightly — that  apart  from  these  foundations  the  demands 
of  the  positive  law  are  not  absolute  but  are  limited  by  the  natural 
law  which  is  sanctified  by  religion  and  safeguards  family  duties 
against  the  state  itself  if  need  be,  when  it  appropriates  what  does 
not  belong  to  it.  The  conflict  between  Creon  and  Antigone 
is  not  a conflict  between  two  moral  forces — the  social  and  the 
individual ; it  is  a conflict  of  the  moral  and  the  anti-moral  force. 
It  is  impossible  to  agree  with  the  usual  view  of  Antigone  as  of 
the  bearer  and  champion  of  personal  feeling  against  a universal 
law,  embodied  in  the  representative  of  the  state — Creon.  The 
true  meaning  of  the  tragedy  is  entirely  different.  A religious 
attitude  to  the  dead  is  a moral  duty,  the  fulfilment  of  which  lies 
at  the  basis  of  all  social  life  ; personal  feeling  expresses  merely  the 
subjective  aspect  of  the  matter.  In  our  own  day,  the  burial  of 
dead  relatives  and  the  homage  paid  to  them  is  not  due  to  personal 
feeling  only  ; and  this  was  still  more  the  case  in  ancient  times. 
The  feeling  may  not  be  there,  but  the  duty  remains.  Antigone 
had  heartfelt  affection  for  both  her  brothers,  but  sacred  duty 
bound  her  to  the  one  who  needed  her  religious  help.  Being  the 
pattern  of  a moral  individual,  Antigone  at  the  same  time  is  the 
representative  of  true  social  order,  which  is  only  preserved  by  the 
fulfilment  of  duty.  She  does  not  in  the  least  conceal  her  feelings, 
and  yet  as  the  motive  of  her  action  she  gives  not  her  feelings 
but  a sacred  obligation  which  has  to  be  fulfilled  to  the  end 
(<f>t\r)  [itr  avrov  Kelcropai,  (fjiXov  pira, — ocria  iravovpyrjcracra).  This 
obligation  is  not  of  course  an  abstract  duty,  but  an  expression  of 
the  eternal  order  of  reality  : 

“ I owe  a longer  allegiance  to  the  dead  than  to  the  living,  in 
that  world  I shall  abide  for  ever.  But  if  thou  wilt  be  guilty  of 
dishonouring  laws  which  the  gods  have  stablished  in  honour  ”... 

To  Creon’s  question,  “And  thou  didst  dare  to  transgress 
the  law  ? ” she  answers  not  by  referring  to  her  personal  feeling 
but  to  the  absolute  supremacy  of  the  eternal  moral  order  which 
cannot  be  cancelled  by  civil  laws  : 

“ For  it  was  not  Zeus  that  had  published  me  that  edict  : 


2x6  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

not  such  are  the  laws  set  among  men  by  the  Justice  who  dwells 
with  the  gods  below  ; nor  deemed  I that  thy  decrees  were  of 
such  force,  that  a mortal  could  override  the  unwritten  and  un- 
failing statutes  of  heaven.” 

As  for  Creon,  he  certainly  does  not  represent  the  principle  of 
the  state,  the  moral  basis  of  which  is  the  same  as  that  of  the 
family,  though  with  the  advantage  of  a fuller  realisation.  He  is 
the  representative  of  the  state  that  has  become  perverted  or  has 
put  itself  into  a false  position — of  the  state  that  has  forgotten  its 
place.  But  since  such  perversion  does  not  form  part  of  the  essence 
or  the  purpose  of  the  state,  it  can  only  arise  from  the  evil  passions 
of  its  representatives — in  this  case,  of  Creon.  It  would  then  be 
right  to  say,  in  direct  opposition  to  the  popular  view,  that 
Antigone  stands  for  the  universal  and  Creon  for  the  individual 
element.  Both  statements,  however,  would  be  incorrect  and 
inexact.  It  is  clear  that  the  opposition  between  the  individual 
and  society,  the  particular  and  the  general,  does  not  as  such  ever 
correspond  to  reality.  The  true  opposition  and  conflict  is  not 
sociological  but  purely  moral ; it  is  the  conflict  between  good  and 
evil,  each  of  which  finds  expression  both  in  the  individual  and 
in  the  social  life.  Cain  killed  Abel  not  because  he  represented 
the  principle  of  individuality  as  against  the  family  union — for  in 
that  case  all  developed  ‘ personalities  ’ would  have  to  kill  their 
brothers  ; he  killed  him  because  he  stood  for  the  principle  of 
evil , which  may  manifest  itself  both  individually  and  collectively^ 
privately  or  publicly.  Creon  in  his  turn  forbade  the  citizens  to 
fulfil  certain  religiously-moral  duties,  not  because  he  was  the 
head  of  the  state,  but  because  he  was  wicked  and  followed  the 
same  principle  which  was  active  in  Cain  previously  to  any  state. 
Every  law  is  of  course  a state  enactment,  but  Creon’s  position  is 
determined  not  by  the  fact  that  he  enacted  a law,  but  that  he 
enacted  an  impious  law.  This  is  not  the  fault  of  the  state-power 
but  of  Creon’s  own  moral  worthlessness  ; for  it  could  hardly  be 
maintained  that  the  function  of  the  state  consists  precisely  in 
enacting  impious  and  inhuman  laws. 

Creon  then  does  not  stand  for  the  principle  of  the  state  but  for 
the  principle  of  evil  which  is  rooted  in  the  personal  will,  though 
it  also  finds  expression  and  embodiment  in  the  life  of  the  com- 
munity— in  the  present  case  in  the  form  of  a bad  law  of  the  state. 


THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND  SOCIETY 


217 

On  the  other  hand,  Antigone,  who  lays  down  her  life  for  the  fulfil- 
ment of  a religious  and  moral  duty  that  lies  at  the  basis  of  social 
life,  is  simply  the  representative  of  the  principle  of  good,  which  is 
also  rooted  in  the  personal  will,  but  is  realised  in  the  true  communal 
life. 

All  human  conflict  is  in  the  last  resort  reducible  not  to  the 
relative  sociological  oppositions  but  to  the  absolute  opposition  of 
the  good  and  the  self-asserting  evil.  The  inmost  essence  of  the 
question  is  always  one  and  the  same  ; but  it  does  not  follow  that 
the  various  historical  situations  in  which  it  is  revealed  again  and 
again  are  therefore  devoid  of  interest  and  importance  of  their  own 
even  from  the  ethical  point  of  view.  The  inner  essence  of  good 
and  evil  can  only  be  clearly  known  through  their  typical  mani- 
festations. Thus,  the  evil  which  expresses  itself  as  the  perversion 
of  the  idea  of  the  state,  or  as  putting  the  law  of  the  state  above 
the  law  of  morality,  is  quite  a specific  form  of  evil.  It  is  a higher 
grade  of  evil  than,  for  instance,  a simple  murder  or  even  fratricide  ; 
but  precisely  because  it  is  more  complex  and  subtle,  it  is  more 
excusable  from  the  subjective  point  of  view  and  is  less  blame- 
worthy than  the  cruder  crimes.  Therefore  Creon,  for  instance, 
though  socially  he  is  more  pernicious,  is  personally  less  guilty 
than  Cain. 

There  is  another  important  shade  of  meaning  in  this  profound 
tragedy.  Speaking  generally,  the  state  is  a higher  stage  of 
historical  development  than  the  clan.  This  higher  stage  had  just 
been  attained  in  Greece.  The  memory  of  how  it  came  to  be 
established,  of  the  struggle  and  the  triumph,  is  still  fresh  in  the 
minds  of  its  representatives.  This  recent  victory  of  the  new  over 
the  old,  of  the  higher  over  the  lower,  is  not  merely  accidental.  In 
view  of  the  obvious  advantages  of  the  state  union  over  the  feuds 
of  the  clans,  its  triumph  is  recognised  as  something  necessary, 
rightful,  and  progressive.  Hence  Creon’s  self-confidence  at  the 
beginning  of  the  play.  The  bad  law  proclaimed  by  him,  putting 
as  it  does  the  loyalty  to  the  new  state  above  the  original  religious 
duties,  is  not  merely  an  abuse  of  the  power  of  the  state,  but  an 
abuse  of  victory — not  of  the  local  victory  of  the  Thebans  over  the 
Argives,  but  of  the  general  victory  of  the  state  order — of  the 
city  state — over  the  clan.  Creon  cannot  therefore  be  looked  upon 
simply  as  a tyrant,  or  a representative  of  personal  arbitrariness  and 


2 1 8 THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

material  power — and  this  is  not  the  way  in  which  the  ancients 
regarded  him.1  The  law  he  enacted  was  supposed  to  be  the 
expression  of  the  common  will  of  the  citizens.  The  short  preface 
by  Aristophanes  the  grammarian,  usually  placed  at  the  beginning 
of  the  tragedy,  begins  thus  : “ Antigone  who  buried  Polinices 

against  the  order  of  the  city  (or  the  state) — napa.  rrjv  irpmrTojiv  rrj  s 
7roAea)s.”  In  the  play  itself,  Ismene  justifies  her  refusal  to  help 
Antigone  by  saying  that  she  cannot  do  violence  to  the  will  of  her 
fellow-citizens.  Creon,  too,  bases  his  argument  not  upon  the 
principle  of  autocracy  but  upon  the  unconditional  significance  of 
patriotism  : 

“ If  any  makes  a friend  of  more  account  than  his  fatherland, 
that  man  has  no  place  in  my  regard.” 

The  ethico-psychological  basis  of  the  bad  law  lies  of  course  in 
Creon’s  bad  will.  This  will,  however,  is  not  merely  senseless  and 
arbitrary  but  is  connected  with  a general  although  a false  idea 
according  to  which  the  power  of  the  state  and  the  laws  of  the 
state  are  higher  than  the  moral  law.  Creon  formulates  this  false 
idea  with  perfect  clearness  : 

“ Whomsoever  the  city  may  appoint,  that  man  must  be 
obeyed,  in  little  things  and  great,  in  just  things  and  unjust .” 

This  idea,  outrageously  false  as  it  is,  has  been  and  still  is  the 
inspiration  of  men  who  have  not  even  Creon’s  excuse,  namely, 
intoxication  with  the  recent  victory  of  the  state  order  over  the 
tribal  anarchy.  In  those  half-historical  times  no  clear  protest — 
such  as  Sophocles  puts  into  the  mouth  of  his  Antigone — may 
have  been  raised  by  the  better  consciousness  against  this  idea, 
but,  at  the  epoch  of  Sophocles  himself,  the  best  minds  were 
well  aware  that  historical  progress  in  bringing  about  new 
forms  of  society  cannot  possibly  supersede  the  essential  foundations 
of  all  social  life.  They  understood  that  although  such  progress  is 
both  important  and  necessary,  it  is  relative  and  subordinate  to  a 
higher  purpose,  and  that  it  loses  all  justification  when  it  is  turned 
against  the  unconditional  moral  good,  the  realisation  of  which  is  the 
sole  object  of  the  historical  development.  And  however  highly  we 

1 It  will  be  remembered  that  the  Greek  word  Tvpavvo'S  did  not  originally  have  a bad 
meaning,  but  designated  every  monarch.  In  the  same  trilogy  of  Sophocles,  the  first 
play  is  called  0 ISiirovs  rvpavvos,  which  is  rightly  translated  Oedipus  rex  ; and  the  word 
ought  to  be  translated  in  the  same  way  in  the  Antigone  in  reference  to  Creon. 


THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND  SOCIETY 


219 


might  value  those  who  further  the  triumphant  march  of  progress, 
the  highest  dignity  of  man,  worthy  of  whole-hearted  sympathy  and 
approval,  consists  not  in  winning  temporal  victories,  but  in  observ- 
ing eternal  limits  equally  sacred  both  for  the  past  and  for  the 
future. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  CHIEF  MOMENTS  IN  THE  HISTORICAL  DEVELOPMENT  OF 
THE  INDIVIDUAL LY-SOCIAL  CONSCIOUSNESS 

I 

With  the  establishment  of  the  national  state  the  moral  outlook 
of  the  individual  is  no  doubt  considerably  widened  and  a greater 
field  is  opened  for  the  exercise  of  his  good  feelings  and  of  his  active 
will  in  moral  conduct.  The  conception  of  the  deity  becomes 
higher  and  more  general,  a certain  religious  development  takes 
place.  Altruism,  or  moral  solidarity  with  other  human  beings, 
increases  quantitatively  or  in  extension  and  becomes  qualitatively 
higher,  losing  its  dominant  character  of  natural  instinct  and  being 
directed  upon  invisible  and  ideal  objects — the  state,  the  fatherland. 
These  ideal  objects  are  sensuously  realised  in  the  unity  of  language, 
customs,  in  the  actual  representatives  of  authority,  etc.,  but,  as  is 
clear  to  every  one,  they  are  not  exhausted  by  these  concrete  facts. 
The  nation  does  not  disappear  with  the  change  of  its  customs,  the 
state  does  not  cease  to  exist  when  its  particular  rulers  pass  away. 
The  spiritual  nature  and  the  ideal  significance  of  objects  such  as 
the  nation  and  the  state  are  preserved  in  any  case,  and  the  in- 
dividual’s moral  relation  to  them,  expressing  itself  as  true  patriotism 
or  civic  virtue,  is  in  this  sense,  other  conditions  being  equal,  a higher 
stage  of  morality  than  the  simple  feeling  of  kinship  or  of  the  blood- 
tie.  On  the  other  hand,  however,  it  is  often  pointed  out  that  as 
the  range  of  moral  relations  or  the  social  environment  becomes 
wider,  the  inner  personal  basis  of  morality  loses  its  living  force 
and  reality.  It  is  urged  that  the  intensity  of  moral  motives  is  in 
inverse  ratio  to  their  objective  extension  ; that  it  is  impossible  to 
love  one’s  country  as  sincerely  and  immediately  as  one’s  friends  or 


220 


INDIVIDUALLY-SOCIAL  CONSCIOUSNESS  221 


relatives,  and  that  the  living  interest  in  one’s  private  welfare  can 
never  be  compared  with  the  abstract  interest  in  the  welfare  of  the 
state,  not  to  speak  of  the  general  welfare  of  humanity.  The  interest 
in  the  latter  is  indeed  often  denied  as  fictitious. 

Leaving  aside  for  the  moment  the  question  of  humanity,  it 
must  be  admitted  that  the  argument  concerning  the  inverse 
relation  between  the  intensity  and  the  extension  of  moral  feelings 
has  a foundation  in  fact.  But  to  be  correctly  understood  it 
requires  the  following  three  reservations  : 

(1)  Independently  of  the  relation  of  individual  persons,  taken 
separately,  to  the  more  or  less  wide  social  whole,  there  exists 
collective  morality,  which  embraces  these  persons  in  their  totality 
— as  a crowd  or  as  a people.  There  is  such  a thing  as  the 
criminal  crowd,  upon  which  the  criminologists  have  now  turned 
their  attention  ; still  more  prominent  is  the  senseless  crowd,  the 
human  herd  ; but  there  is  also  the  splendid,  the  heroic  crowd. 
The  crowd  excited  by  brutal  or  bestial  instincts  lowers  the 
spiritual  level  of  individuals  that  are  drawn  into  it.  But  the 
human  mass  animated  by  collectively-moral  motives  lifts  up  to 
its  level  individuals  in  whom  these  motives  are,  as  such,  devoid  of 
genuine  force.  At  the  kinship-group  stage,  the  striving  of  the  best 
men  for  a wider  collective  morality  conditioned  the  appearance  of 
the  state  or  the  nation,  but  once  this  new  social  whole,  real  and 
powerful  in  spite  of  its  ideal  nature,  has  been  created,  it  begins 
to  exert  direct  influence  not  only  upon  the  best , but  also  upon  the 
average  and  even  the  bad  men  that  form  part  of  it. 

(2)  Apart  from  collective  morality,  the  quantitative  fact  that 
most  men  taken  separately  are  bad  patriots  and  poor  citizens, 
is  qualitatively  counterbalanced  by  the  few  high  instances  of  true 
patriotism  and  civic  virtue  which  could  not  have  arisen  in  the 
primitive  conditions  of  life,  and  only  became  possible  when  the 
state,  the  nation,  the  fatherland  had  come  into  being. 

(3)  Finally,  whether  the  moral  gain  obtained  by  the  widening 
of  the  social  environment  in  the  national  state  be  great  or  small, 
it  is  in  any  case  a gain.  The  good  contained  in  the  tribal 
morality  is  not  annulled  by  this  extension  but  is  merely  modified 
and  made  more  pure  as  it  assumes  the  form  of  family  ties  and 
virtues,  which  are  supplemented  and  not  replaced  by  patriot- 
ism. Thus,  even  from  the  individual  point  of  view,  our  love 


222  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

for  millions  of  our  fellow-citizens,  even  though  it  cannot  be  as 
great  as  our  love  for  some  dozens  of  our  friends,  is  a direct  gain, 
for  the  wider  love  that  is  less  intense  does  not  destroy  the  more 
intense  one.  Consequently,  from  whatever  point  of  view  we  look 
at  it,  the  extension  of  the  sphere  of  life  from  the  limits  of  the 
clan  to  the  state  unquestionably  means  moral  progress.  This 
progress  is  apparent  both  in  man’s  relation  to  the  gods  and  to  his 
neighbours,  and  also,  as  will  be  presently  shown,  in  man’s  relation 
to  his  lower  material  nature. 


II 

The  moral  principle  which  demands  from  man  subordination 
to  the  higher  and  solidarity  with  his  neighbours,  requires  him  to 
dominate  physical  nature  as  the  basis  upon  which  reason  works. 
This  domination  has  for  its  immediate  object  the  body  of  the 
individual  himself — hence  the  ascetic  morality  in  the  narrow  sense 
of  the  term.  But  the  material  life  of  the  single  individual  is  only 
a portion  of  the  general  material  life  that  surrounds  him,  and  to 
separate  this  portion  from  the  whole  is  neither  logically  legitimate 
nor  practically  possible.  So  long  as  the  outer  nature  completely 
overwhelms  man,  who,  helpless  and  lost  in  virginal  forests  among 
wild  beasts,  is  compelled  to  think  of  nothing  but  the  preservation 
and  maintenance  of  his  existence,  the  thought  of  the  mastery  of 
the  spirit  over  the  flesh  can  hardly  even  arise,  let  alone  the  attempt 
to  carry  it  out.  Man  who  starves  from  necessity  is  not  given  to 
fasting  for  ascetic  purposes.  Suffering  all  kinds  of  privations  from 
his  birth  onwards,  living  under  the  constant  menace  of  violent 
death,  man  in  the  savage  state  is  an  unconscious  and  involuntary 
ascetic,  and  his  marvellous  endurance  has  as  little  moral  worth  as 
the  sufferings  of  small  fish  pursued  by  pikes  or  sharks. 

The  manifestation  of  the  inner  moral  power  of  the  spirit  over 
the  flesh  presupposes  that  man  is  to  a certain  extent  secure  from 
the  destructive  powers  of  external  nature.  Now  such  security 
cannot  be  attained  by  a single  individual — it  requires  social  union. 
Although  ascetic  morality  in  some  of  its  aspects  seeks  to  sever  the 
social  ties,  it  is  clear  that  such  a striving  could  only  have  arisen  on 
the  basis  of  an  already  existing  society.  Both  in  India  of  the 
Brahmins  and  in  Christian  Egypt  ascetic  hermits  were  the 


INDI VI  DU  ALLY-SOCIAL  CONSCIOUSNESS  223 

product  of  a civilised  social  environment.  They  had  spiritually 
outgrown  it,  but  without  it  they  themselves  would  have  been 
historically  and  physically  impossible.  Solitary  hermits  who  had 
voluntarily  forsaken  society  for  the  desert  by  their  very  presence 
subdued  wild  beasts,  which  had  no  reason  whatever  for  being 
subdued  by  the  enforced  solitude  of  vagrant  savages,  inferior  to 
them  in  physical  strength,  but  inwardly  very  much  on  their  level. 
For  the  victory  both  over  evil  beasts  without  and  over  evil 
passions  within  a certain  amount  of  civilisation  was  necessary, 
which  could  only  be  attained  through  the  development  of  social  life. 
Consequently  ascetic  morality  is  not  the  work  of  the  individual 
taken  in  the  abstract ; it  can  only  be  manifested  by  man  as  a 
social  being.  The  inner  foundations  of  the  good  in  man  do  not 
depend  upon  the  forms  of  social  life,  but  the  actual  realisation  of 
them  does  presuppose  such  forms. 

At  the  early  beginnings  of  social  life — at  the  kinship-group 
stage  — ascetic  morality  is  purely  negative  in  character.  In 
addition  to  the  regulation  of  the  sexual  life  by  marriage,  we  find 
prohibitions  of  certain  kinds  of  food  ( e.g . of  the  1 totemic  ’ animals, 
connected  with  a given  social  group  as  its  protecting  spirits  or 
as  the  incarnation  of  its  ancestors),  and  also  the  restriction  of 
meat  foods  to  sacrificial  feasts  (thus,  among  the  Semitic  peoples 
especially,  the  flesh  of  domestic  animals  was  originally  for  religious 
uses  only.1) 

But  in  the  conditions  of  the  tribal  life  asceticism  could  not 
from  the  very  nature  of  the  case  go  beyond  such  elementary 
restrictions.  So  long  as  personal  dignity  finds  its  realisation  in  a 
social  organisation  determined  by  kinship,  or,  at  any  rate,  is 
conditioned  by  it,  there  can  be  no  question  of  the  ideal  of  com- 
plete continence  or  of  the  moral  duty  to  struggle  with  such 
passions  upon  which  the  very  existence  of  the  tribe  depends. 
The  virtuous  tribesman  must  be  distinguished  by  vindictiveness 
and  acquisitiveness,  and  has  no  right  to  dream  of  perfect  purity. 
The  ideal  representative  of  tribal  morality  is  the  Biblical  Jacob, 
who  had  two  wives  and  several  concubines,  who  begat  twelve  sons, 
and  increased  the  family  property  without  troubling  about  the 
means  whereby  he  did  it. 

The  formation  of  the  state  had  an  enormous,  though  indirect, 

1 See  Robertson  Smith’s  The  Religion  of  the  Semites. 


224  THE  justification  of  the  good 

influence  upon  ascetic  morality  in  the  wide  sense  of  the  term,  i.e. 
upon  that  aspect  of  morality  which  is  concerned  with  the  material 
nature  of  man  and  of  the  world,  and  aims  at  the  complete  mastery 
of  the  rational  spirit  over  the  blind  material  forces.  Power  over 
nature  is  utterly  impossible  for  a lonely  savage  or  for  the  bestial  man, 
and  only  a rudimentary  degree  of  it  is  acquired  at  the  barbarous 
stage  of  the  tribal  life.  Under  the  conditions  of  civilised  existence 
in  strong  and  extensive  political  unions  it  becomes  considerable 
and  lasting,  and  is  continually  on  the  increase.  The  means  of 
spiritual  development  for  the  individual,  the  school  of  practical 
asceticism  for  the  masses  of  the  people,  and  the  beginning  of  sub- 
jugating the  earth  for  humanity,  is  to  be  found  in  the  military 
and  theocratic  empires  which  united  men  into  large  groups  for 
carrying  on  the  work  of  civilisation  in  four  different  quarters  of 
the  globe — between  the  Blue  and  the  Yellow  rivers,  between  the 
Ind  and  the  Ganges,  between  the  Tigris  and  Euphrates,  and, 
finally,  in  the  valley  of  the  Nile.  These  military  and  theocratic 
monarchies  — which  Araktcheev’s  ‘military  settlements’1  re- 
called to  us  in  miniature — were,  of  course,  very  far  from  the  ideal 
of  human  society.  But  their  great  historical  importance  as  a 
necessary  moral  school  for  primitive  humanity  is  recognised  even 
by  the  champions  of  absolute  anarchism.2 

Speaking  generally,  in  order  to  rise  above  the  compulsory  form 
of  social  morality , savage  humanity  had  to  pass  through  it  — in 
order  to  outgrow  despotism  it  had  to  experience  it.  More  particu- 
larly, three  considerations  are  undoubtedly  involved  here,  (i) 
The  harder  the  original  struggle  with  primitive  nature  was,  the 
more  necessary  it  was  for  men  to  be  united  into  wide  but  closely- 

1 The  90-called  ‘ military  settlements  ’ were  villages  in  which  every  peasant  was 
compelled  to  be  a soldier  and  to  live  under  military  discipline.  Minute  regulations 
with  regard  to  the  home  life,  work,  dress,  etc.,  were  enforced  with  ruthless  severity 
and  made  the  life  of  the  settlers  intolerable.  The  idea  of  establishing  military 
settlements  belonged  to  Alexander  I.  and  was  carried  out  by  Araktcheev,  his  favourite, 
who  founded  the  first  settlement  in  1810.  Military  settlements  were  finally  abolished 
by  Alexander  II.  in  1857. — Translator' s Note. 

2 I would  like  especially  to  mention  the  interesting  work  by  Leon  Mctchnikov, 
La  Civilisation  et  les  grands  fieuves.  See  my  article  about  it,  “ Iz  istorii  philosophii  ” 
(Concerning  the  philosophy  of  history),  in  the  Voprosi  Philosophii  (1891),  and  also  Professor 
Vinogradov’s  article  in  the  same  magazine.  One  worthy  critic  imagined  that  in  speaking 
of  the  military  theocracy  as  the  historical  school  of  asceticism  I was  referring  to  the 
personal  intentions  of  the  Egyptian  Pharaohs  and  Chaldean  kings  ! ! 


INDIVIDUALLY -SOCIAL  CONSCIOUSNESS  225 

connected  communities.  And  the  wide  extension  of  a social  group 
could  only  be  combined  with  an  intimate  and  strong  tie  between 
its  members  by  means  of  the  strictest  discipline , supported  by  the 
most  powerful  of  all  sanctions,  namely,  the  religious  sanction. 
Therefore  political  unions  which  had  for  the  first  time  subdued 
wild  nature  and  laid  the  corner-stone  of  human  culture  were  bound 
to  have  the  character  of  a religious  and  military  monarchy,  or  of 
compulsory  theocracy.  This  work  of  civilisation  done  under  the 
pressure  of  the  moral  and  the  material  needs — this  ‘Egyptian 
labour  ’ — was  by  its  very  nature  a school  of  human  solidarity  for 
the  masses  and,  from  the  point  of  view  of  its  objective  purpose 
and  result,  it  was  the  first  achievement  of  collective  asceticism 
in  humanity,  the  first  historical  triumph  of  reason  over  the  blind 
forces  of  matter. 

(2)  The  compulsory  character  of  this  collective  achievement 
prevents  us  from  ascribing  ideal  worth  to  it,  but  does  not  alto- 
gether deprive  it  of  moral  significance.  For  compulsion  was  not 
merely  material.  It  rested  in  the  last  resort  upon  the  faith  of 
the  masses  themselves  in  the  divine  character  of  the  power  which 
compelled  them  to  work.  However  imperfect  in  its  form  and 
content  that  faith  might  be,  to  subordinate  one’s  life  to  it,  to 
endure  at  its  behest  all  kinds  of  privation  and  hardship,  is  in  any 
case  a moral  course  of  action.  Both  its  general  historical  result 
and  its  inner  psychological  effect  upon  each  individual  composing 
the  mass  of  the  people  had  the  character  of  true,  though  imperfect, 
asceticism — that  is,  of  victory  of  the  spiritual  principle  over  the 
carnal.  If  the  innumerable  Chinese  genuinely  believe  that  their 
Emperor  is  the  son  of  the  sky  ; if  the  Hindus  were  seriously 
convinced  that  the  priests  sprang  from  the  head  of  Brahma  and 
the  kings  and  princes  from  his  arms  ; if  the  Assyrian  king  really 
was  in  the  eyes  of  his  people  the  incarnation  of  the  national  deity 
Assur,  and  the  Pharaoh  truly  was  for  the  Egyptians  the  manifesta- 
tion of  the  solar  deity — then  absolute  submission  to  such  rulers 
was  for  these  peoples  a religiously-moral  duty,  and  compulsory 
work  at  their  command  an  ascetic  practice.  This,  however, 
did  not  apply  to  slaves  in  the  strict  sense — prisoners  of  war  to 
whom  their  masters’  gods  were  strange  gods.  And  even  apart 
from  this  national  limitation  the  whole  structure  of  these  primitive 
religiously-political  unions  was  essentially  imperfect  because  the 

Q 


226  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

gods  who  received  the  voluntary  and  involuntary  human  sacrifices 
(both  in  the  literal  and  in  the  indirect  sense)  did  not  possess 
absolute  inner  worth.  They  stood  merely  for  the  infinity  of  force, 
not  for  the  infinity  of  goodness.  Man  is  morally  superior  to  such 
gods  by  his  power  of  renunciation  ; and  therefore  in  sacrificing 
himself  for  these  gods  and  their  earthly  representatives  he  does  not 
find  the  higher  for  the  sake  of  which  it  is  worth  while  to  sacrifice 
the  lower.  If  the  meaning  of  the  sacrifice  is  to  be  found  in  the 
progress  of  civilisation,  this  meaning  is  purely  relative,  for  progress 
itself  is  obviously  only  a means,  a way,  a direction,  and  not  the 
absolute  and  final  goal.  But  human  personality  contains  an  element 
of  intrinsic  value,  which  can  never  be  merely  a means  — the 
possibility,  namely,  inherent  in  it,  of  infinite  perfection  through 
the  contemplation  of  and  union  with  the  absolute  fulness  of  being. 
A society  in  which  this  significance  of  personality  is  not  recognised 
and  in  which  the  individual  is  regarded  as  having  only  a relative 
value,  as  a means  for  political  and  cultural  ends — even  the  most 
lofty  ones, — cannot  be  the  ideal  human  society  but  is  merely  a 
transient  stage  of  the  historical  development.  This  is  particu- 
larly true  of  the  military  and  theocratic  monarchies  with  which 
universal  history  begins. 

(3)  The  primitive  forms  of  the  religiously-political  union 
were  so  imperfect  that  they  made  further  progress  inevitable,  and 
at  the  same  time  they  naturally  produced  the  external  conditions 
necessary  for  that  progress.  Within  the  limits  of  the  tribal  life 
each  member  of  a given  social  group  was  both  physically  and  morally 
compelled  to  prey,  plunder,  and  kill,  to  fight  wild  beasts,  breed  cattle, 
and  produce  numerous  offspring.  Obviously  there  was  no  room 
there  for  the  higher  spiritual  development  of  the  human  person- 
ality. It  only  became  possible  when,  with  the  compulsory  division 
of  labour  in  the  great  religiously-political  organisations  of  the  past, 
there  arose,  in  addition  to  the  masses  doomed  to  hard  physical 
work,  the  leisurely,  propertied  class  of  free  men.  By  the  side  of 
warriors  there  appeared  professional  priests,  scribes,  diviners,  etc., 
among  whom  the  higher  consciousness  was  first  awakened.  This 
great  historical  moment  is  recorded  in  the  Bible  in  the  significant 
and  majestic  story  of  the  best  representative  of  the  patriarchal 
order,  Abraham,  with  the  crowd  of  his  armed  dependants,  bowing 
down  before  the  priest  of  the  Most  High,  Melchizedek,  who  was 


INDIVIDUALLY-SOCIAL  CONSCIOUSNESS  227 


without  descent  and  came  before  him  with  the  gifts  of  the  new 
higher  culture — bread  and  wine  and  the  spiritual  blessing  of  Truth 
and  Peace.1 

While  by  the  sword  of  the  great  conquerors  the  hard  collective 
work  of  the  masses  was  gradually  made  to  extend  over  a wider 
and  wider  area,  securing  the  external  material  success  of  human 
culture,  the  inner  work  of  thought  among  the  leisured  and  peace- 
ful representatives  of  the  nationally-theocratic  states  was  leading 
human  consciousness  to  a more  perfect  ideal  of  individual  and 
social  universalism. 

Ill 

In  the  course  of  the  world-history  the  first  awakening  of 
human  self-consciousness  took  place  in  the  land  where  its  sleep 
had  most  abounded  with  fantastic  and  wild  dreams — in  India.  To 
the  overwhelming  variety  of  Indian  mythology  corresponded  a 
confusing  variety  of  religious,  political,  and  customary  forms  and 
conditions  of  life.  Nowhere  else  had  the  theocratic  order  been 
so  complex  and  burdensome,  so  full  of  national  and  class  exclusive- 
ness. Not  from  Egypt  or  China,  not  from  the  Chaldeans, 
Phoenicians,  or  the  Greco-Roman  world,  but  from  India  have  we 
borrowed  conceptions  expressive  of  the  extreme  degree  of  separa- 
tion between  the  classes  of  men  2 and  of  the  denial  of  human 
dignity.  The  ‘ pariahs  ’ were  deprived  of  human  dignity  as 
standing  outside  the  law  ; men  belonging  to  castes  within  the 
law  and  even  to  the  highest  of  them  were  deprived  of  all  freedom 
owing  to  a most  complex  system  of  religious  and  customary  rites 
and  regulations.  But  the  more  narrow  and  artificial  the  fetters 
fashioned  by  the  spirit  for  itself  and  out  of  itself,  the  more  they 
testify  to  its  inner  strength  and  to  the  fact  that  nothing  external 
can  finally  bind  and  conquer  it.  The  spirit  awakes  from  the 
nightmare  of  sacrificial  rites,  compulsory  actions,  and  ascetic 
tortures,  and  says  to  itself : All  this  is  my  own  invention  which  in 
my  sleep  I took  to  be  reality  ; if  only  I can  keep  awake,  the  fear 
and  the  pain  will  vanish.  But  what  will  then  remain  ? A subtle 

1 I am  referring  here,  of  course,  simply  to  the  historical  meaning  of  the  fact,  and  not 
to  its  mystical  significance. 

2 Although  the  word  caste  is  Portuguese  and  not  Indian,  it  had  arisen  (in  the  sense 
in  question)  precisely  for  the  designation  of  the  social  relations  of  India. 


228  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

and  significant,  though  not  at  first  sight  a clear,  answer  is  given 
to  this  question  by  the  religion  of  awakening.  It  perpetuates  the 
moment  when  human  personality  turns  from  external  objects  into 
itself,  and  comes  to  know  its  purely  negative  or  formal  infinity 
devoid  of  all  definite  content.  The  individual  is  aware  of  his 
infinitude,  freedom,  and  universality  simply  because  he  transcends 
all  given  determination,  relation,  and  character,  because  he  is 
conscious  of  something  within  himself  which  is  more  and  higher 
than  this  caste,  this  nationality,  this  cult,  this  manner  of  life — of 
something  that  is  higher  than  all  this.  Whatever  objective 
determination  a self-conscious  person  might  put  before  himself, 
he  does  not  stop  there  ; he  knows  that  he  had  himself  posited  it 
and  that  his  own  creation  is  not  worthy  of  him  and  therefore  he 
forsakes  it:  c all  is  empty?  All  that  belongs  to  the  external  world 
is  rejected,  nothing  is  found  to  be  worthy  of  existence,  but  man’s 
spiritual  power  of  rejecting  remains  ; and  it  is  very  significant 
that  Buddh'sm  recognises  this  power  not  as  belonging  to  the 
solitary  individual,  but  as  having  an  individually-social  form  of 
the  so-called  Triratna , i.e.  ‘three  jewels’  or  ‘three  treasures,’  in 
which  every  Buddhist  must  believe:  “I  take  my  refuge  in  the 
Buddha  ; I take  my  refuge  in  the  doctrine  or  the  law  ( Dharma ) ; 
I take  my  refuge  in  the  order  of  the  disciples  ( Sangha ).”  Thus 
even  in  the  consciousness  of  its  negative  infinity  human  personality 
cannot  remain  separate  and  isolated,  but  by  means  of  a universal 
doctrine  is  inevitably  led  to  a social  organisation. 

All  is  deception  except  three  things  that  are  worthy  of  belief : 
(i)  the  spiritually-awakened  man  ; (2)  the  word  of  awakening  ; 
(3)  the  brotherhood  of  those  who  are  awake.  This  is  the  true 
essence  of  Buddhism  which  still  nurtures  millions  of  souls  in 
distant  Asia.1  This  is  the  first  lasting  stage  of  human  universalism 

1 It  should  be  noted,  by  the  way,  that  after  the  fashion  set  by  Schopenhauer,  who  was 
prejudiced  in  favour  of  Buddhism,  the  number  of  Buddhists  is  usually  exaggerated  beyond 
all  measure  ; one  hears  of  400,  600,  700  million  followers  of  this  religion.  These 
figures  would  be  probable  were  China  and  Japan  wholly  populated  by  Buddhists.  In 
truth,  however,  the  teaching  of  Buddha  in. its  various  modifications  is  the  religion  of  the 
masses  only  in  Ceylon,  Indo-China,  Nepal,  Tibet,  Mongolia,  and  among  the  Bouriats 
and  Kalmucks  ; this  amounts  at  most  to  75  or  80  millions.  In  China  and  Japan 
Buddhism  is  simply  one  of  the  permitted  religions  which  is  more  or  less  closely  followed 
by  the  educated  people,  who  do  not,  however,  give  up  their  national  cult  ; in  a similar 
manner  in  Russia,  for  instance,  under  Alexander  I.  many  Orthodox  people  used  to 
frequent  the  meetings  of  the  Freemasons. 


INDIVIDU ALLY-SOCIAL  CONSCIOUSNESS  229 


that  rose  above  the  national  and  political  exclusiveness  of  the 
religious  and  social  life. 

Born  in  the  country  of  caste,  Buddhism  did  not  in  the  least 
reject  the  division  of  society  into  castes,  or  seek  to  destroy  it  ; its 
followers  simply  ceased  to  believe  in  the  principle  of  that  organisa- 
tion, in  the  absolute  hereditary  inequality  of  the  classes.  Appear- 
ing in  the  midst  of  a nation  with  a distinct  character  of  its  own,  it 
did  not  reject  nationality,  but  simply  transferred  human  conscious- 
ness into  the  domain  of  other,  universal  and  super-national  ideas. 
In  consequence  of  this,  this  Indian  religion,  the  outcome  of 
Hindu  philosophy,  was  able,  when  finally  rejected  in  India,  to 
take  root  among  many  various  peoples  of  different  race  and 
different  historic  education. 

The  negative  infinity  of  human  personality  had  been  apparent 
to  individual  philosophers  before  the  time  of  Buddhism.1  But 
it  was  in  Buddhism  that  this  view  found  its  first  historical 
expression  in  the  collective  life  of  humanity.  Owing  to  his 
morally-practical  universalism  which  proceeded  from  the  heart 
even  more  than  from  the  mind,  Buddha  Sakya-muni  created  a 
form  of  common  life  hitherto  unknown  in  humanity  — the 
brotherhood  of  beggar-monks  from  every  caste  and  nation, — the 
‘listeners’  (Shravaki)  of  the  true  doctrine,  the  followers  of  the  true 
way.  Here  for  the  first  time  the  worth  of  the  individual  and  his 
relation  to  society  was  finally  determined  not  by  the  fact  of  being 
born  into  a certain  class  or  a definite  national  and  political 
organisation,  but  by  the  inner  act  of  choosing  a certain  moral 
ideal.  The  theoretical  conceptions  of  the  first  Buddha  and  the 

1 Many  fantastic  ideas  used  to  prevail  with  regard  to  the  antiquity  of  the  Hindu 
philosophy,  but  they  are  beginning  to  disappear  in  the  light  of  the  more  scientific 
inquiry.  Most  of  their  philosophic  wealth  the  Hindus  acquired  in  later  times,  partly 
under  the  direct  influence  of  Greeks  after  Alexander  the  Great,  and  partly  later  still 
with  the  help  of  the  Arabs  who  brought  Aristotle  to  the  East  no  less  than  to  the  West. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  no  doubt  that  even  the  Greeks — not  to  speak  of  Arabs 
— on  their  first  acquaintance  with  India  found  there  a peculiar  local  philosophy  of  the 
‘ naked  wise  men  ’ ( Gymnosophist: ) as  a typical  and  traditional  institution  of  ancient 
standing.  From  their  outward  appearance  these  Indian  adamites  cannot  be  identified 
with  the  followers  of  Buddhism  ; most  probably  they  were  adepts  of  ascetic  mysticism — 
Yoga,  which  existed  before  the  time  of  Buddha.  Still  more  ancient  was  the  pantheism 
of  the  Upanishads.  There  is  ground  to  believe  that  the  immediate  forerunner  of  Sakya- 
muni  was  the  author  of  the  system  of  spiritualistic  dualism  (expounded  in  Sankya- 
Karika),  although  the  person  and  even  the  name  of  this  sage — Kapila — are  somewhat 
doubtful. 


230  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

conditions  of  life  of  his  monastic  brotherhood  have  undergone  a 
number  of  changes  in  the  course  of  history,  but  the  moral  essence 
of  his  teaching  and  work  has  remained  in  a clear-cut,  crystallised 
form  in  the  Lamaian  monasteries  of  Mongolia  and  Tibet. 

The  moral  essence  of  Buddhism  as  an  individually-social 
system  has,  during  the  two  and  a half  thousand  years  of  its 
historical  existence,  evinced  itself  as  the  feeling  of  religious 
reverence  for  the  blessed  master,  who  was  the  first  to  awake  to 
the  true  meaning  of  reality,  and  is  the  spiritual  progenitor  of  all 
who  subsequently  became  awake  ; as  the  demand  for  holiness  or 
perfect  absence  of  will  (the  inner  asceticism  in  contradistinction  to 
the  external  mortification  of  the  flesh  which  had  been  and  still 
is  practised  by  the  c Gymnosophists,’  and  which  did  not  satisfy 
Buddha  Sakya-muni)  ; and,  finally,  as  the  commandment  of  universal 
benevolence  or  kindly  compassion  to  all  beings.  It  is  this  latter, 
the  simplest  and  most  attractive  aspect  of  Buddhism,  that  brings 
to  light  the  defects  of  the  whole  doctrine. 

IV 

What,  from  the  Buddhistic  point  of  view,  is  the  difference 
between  the  man  who  is  spiritually  awake  and  the  man  who 
is  not  ? The  latter,  influenced  by  the  delusions  of  sense,  takes 
apparent  and  transitory  distinctions  to  be  real  and  final,  and 
therefore  desires  some  things  and  fears  others,  is  attracted  and 
repelled,  feels  love  and  hate.  The  one  who  has  awakened  from 
these  dream  emotions  understands  that  their  objects  are  illusory 
and  is  therefore  at  rest.  Finding  nothing  upon  which  it  would 
be  worth  his  while  to  concentrate  his  will,  he  becomes  free  from 
all  willing,  preference,  and  fear,  and  therefore  loses  all  cause  for 
dissension,  anger,  enmity  and  hatred,  and,  free  from  these  passions, 
he  experiences  for  everything,  without  exception,  the  same 
feeling  of  benevolence  or  compassion.  But  why  should  he 
experience  precisely  this  feeling  ? Having  convinced  himself 
that  all  is  empty , that  the  objective  conditions  of  existence  are 
vain  and  illusory,  the  awakened  sage  ought  to  enter  a state  of 
perfect  impassibility , equally  free  both  from  malice  and  from  pity. 
For  both  these  opposed  feelings  equally  presuppose  to  begin  with 
a conviction  of  the  reality  of  living  beings  ; secondly,  their 


INDIVIDUALLY -SOCIAL  CONSCIOUSNESS  231 

distinction  from  one  another  (e.g.  the  distinction  between  the 
man  who  suffers  in  his  ignorance  and  appeals  to  my  pity,  and 
the  perfectly  blessed  Buddha  who  stands  in  no  need  of  it)  ; and, 
thirdly,  pity,  no  less  than  malice,  prompts  us  to  perform  definite 
actions,  determined  by  the  objective  qualities  and  conditions 
of  the  given  facts.  Now  all  this  is  absolutely  incompatible 
with  the  fundamental  principle  of  universal  emptiness  and 
indifference.  The  moral  teaching  of  Buddhism  demands  active 
self-sacrifice,  which  is  involved  in  the  very  conception  of  a 
Buddha.  The  perfect  Buddha — such  as  Gautama  Sakya-muni 
— differs  from  the  imperfect  or  solitary  Buddha  (Pratyeka  Buddha) 
precisely  by  the  fact  that  he  is  not  satisfied  by  his  own  know- 
ledge of  the  agonising  emptiness  of  existence,  but  decides  to 
free  from  this  agony  all  living  beings.  This  decision  was  pre- 
ceded in  his  former  incarnations  by  individual  acts  of  extreme 
self-sacrifice,  descriptions  of  which  abound  in  Buddhist  legends. 
Thus  in  one  of  his  previous  lives  he  gave  himself  up  to  be 
devoured  by  a tiger  in  order  to  save  a poor  woman  and  her 
children.  Such  holy  exploits,  in  contradistinction  to  the  aimless 
self-destruction  of  the  ancient  ascetics  of  India,  are  a direct 
means  to  the  highest  bliss  for  every  one  who  is  ‘awake.’  A 
well-known  and  typical  story  is  told  of  one  of  the  apostles  of 
Buddhism — Arya-Deva.  As  he  was  approaching  a city,  he 
saw  a wounded  dog  covered  with  worms.  To  save  the  dog 
without  destroying  the  worms,  Arya-Deva  cut  a piece  off  his 
own  body  and  placed  the  worms  upon  it.  At  that  moment  both 
the  city  and  the  dog  disappeared  from  his  eyes,  and  he  entered  at 
once  into  Nirvana. 

Active  self-sacrifice  out  of  pity  for  all  living  beings,  so 
characteristic  of  Buddhist  morality,  cannot  be  logically  reconciled 
with  the  fundamental  principle  of  Buddhism — the  doctrine  that 
all  things  are  empty  and  indifferent.  To  feel  equal  pity  for 
every  one,  beginning  with  Brahma  and  Indra,  and  ending  with 
a worm,  is  certainly  not  opposed  to  the  principle  of  indifference  ; 
but  as  soon  as  the  feeling  of  universal  compassion  becomes  the 
work  of  mercy,  the  indifference  must  be  given  up.  If  instead 
of  a dog  with  worms,  Arya-Deva  had  met  a man  suffering  from 
vice  and  ignorance,  pity  to  this  living  creature  would  require 
from  him  not  a piece  of  his  flesh,  but  words  of  true  doctrine — 


232  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

while  to  address  words  of  rational  persuasion  to  a hungry  worm 
would  be  no  less  absurd  than  to  feed  with  his  own  flesh  a satisfied, 
but  erring,  man.  Equal  pity  to  all  beings  demands  not  the  same , 
but  quite  a different  active  relation  to  each  one  of  them.  Even 
for  a Buddhist  this  difference  proves  to  be  not  merely  illusory, 
for  he  too  would  certainly  admit  that  had  Arya-Deva  not 
distinguished  a worm  or  a dog  from  a human  being,  and  offered 
moral  books  to  suffering  animals,  he  would  hardly  be  likely 
to  have  performed  any  holy  exploit  and  deserved  Nirvana.  All- 
embracing  pity  necessarily  involves  discriminating  truths  which 
gives  each  his  due  : a piece  of  meat  to  the  animal,  and  words  of 
spiritual  awakening  to  the  rational  being.  But  we  cannot  stop 
at  this.  Pity  for  every  one  compels  me  to  desire  for  all  and  each 
the  supreme  and  final  blessedness  which  consists  not  in  satiety, 
but  in  complete  freedom  from  the  pain  of  limited  existence 
and  of  the  necessity  of  rebirth.  This  freedom,  this  only  true 
blessedness,  the  worm — so  long  as  it  remains  a worm — cannot 
attain  ; it  is  possible  only  to  a self-conscious  and  rational  being. 
Therefore  if  I am  to  extend  my  pity  to  the  lower  creatures, 
I cannot  be  content  with  simply  alleviating  their  suffering  at 
a given  moment.  I must  help  them  to  attain  the  final  end 
through  rebirth  in  higher  forms.  But  the  objective  conditions 
of  existence  are  rejected  by  Buddhism  as  an  illusion  and  empty 
dream,  and  consequently  the  ascent  of  living  beings  up  the 
ladder  of  rebirths  depends  exclusively  on  their  own  actions 
(the  law  of  Karma).  The  form  of  the  worm  is  the  necessary 
outcome  of  former  sins,  and  no  help  from  without  can  lift  that 
worm  to  the  higher  stage  of  dog  or  elephant.  Buddha  himself 
could  directly  act  only  upon  rational  self-conscious  beings,  and 
that  only  in  the  sense  that  his  preaching  enabled  them  to  accept 
or  to  reject  the  truth,  and,  in  the  first  case,  to  escape  from  the 
torture  of  rebirth,  and,  in  the  second,  continue  to  endure  it. 
The  work  of  salvation  that  those  who  are  ‘awake’  can 
accomplish  amounts  simply  to  pushing  their  sleeping  neigh- 
bours, some  of  whom  are  awakened  by  it,  while  others  merely 
exchange  one  series  of  bad  dreams  for  another,  still  more 
agonising. 

The  principle  of  active  pity  to  all  living  beings,  however 
true  it  is  in  itself,  can,  from  the  Buddhist  point  of  view,  have 


INDIVIDUALLY -SOCIAL  CONSCIOUSNESS  233 

no  real  application.  We  are  utterly  incapable  of  bringing  true 
salvation  to  the  lower  creatures,  and  our  power  of  influencing 
rational  creatures  in  this  respect  is  extremely  limited.  What- 
ever their  commandments  and  legends  may  be,  the  very  formula 
of  the  faith1  indicates  that  the  true  sphere  of  moral  relations 
and  activity  is  for  the  Buddhist  limited  to  the  brotherhood  of 
those  who,  like  himself,  are  ‘awake,’  and  support  one  another 
in  a peaceful  life  of  contemplation — the  last  remainder  of  their 
former  activities — before  they  finally  pass  into  Nirvana. 

V 

The  significance  of  Buddhism  in  the  world-history  lies  in  the 
fact  that  in  it  the  human  individual  was  for  the  first  time  valued 
not  as  the  member  of  a tribe,  a caste,  a state,  but  as  the  bearer 
of  a higher  consciousness,  as  a being  capable  of  awakening  from 
the  deceptive  dream  of  everyday  existence,  of  becoming  free 
from  the  chain  of  causality.  This  is  true  of  man  belonging  to 
any  caste  or  nationality,  and  in  this  sense  the  Buddhist  religion 
signalises  a new  stage  in  the  history  of  the  world — the  universal 
as  opposed  to  the  particular  tribal  or  national  stage.  It  is  clear, 
however,  that  the  universality  of  Buddhism  is  merely  abstract  or 
negative  in  character.  It  proclaims  the  principle  of  indifference, 
rejects  the  importance  of  the  caste  or  the  national  distinctions, 
gathers  into  a new  religious  community  men  of  all  colours  and 
classes — and  then  leaves  everything  as  it  was  before.  The  problem 
of  gathering  together  the  disjecta  membra  of  humanity  and  forming 
out  of  them  a new  and  higher  kingdom,  is  not  even  contemplated. 
Buddhism  does  not  go  beyond  the  universalism  of  a monastic  order. 
When  the  transition  is  effected  from  the  clan  to  the  state,  the 
former  independent  social  wholes — the  clans — enter  as  subordinate 
parts  into  the  new  and  higher  whole,  the  organised  political  union. 
Similarly,  the  third  and  highest  stage  of  human  development — the 
universal — demands  that  states  and  nations  should  enter  as  con- 
stituent parts  into  the  all-embracing  new  organisation.  Other- 
wise, however  broad  the  theoretical  principles  might  be,  the 
positive  significance  in  concrete  life  will  entirely  remain  with  the 
already  existing  national  and  political  groups.  ‘ All  men  ’ and, 

1 See  above. 


234  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

still  more,  ‘all  living  beings’  will  simply  be  an  abstract  idea 
symbolically  expressed  by  the  monastery  that  is  severed  from  life. 
Buddhism  remains  perfectly  strange  to  the  task  of  truly  uniting  all 
living  beings,  or  even  the  scattered  parts  of  humanity,  in  a new, 
universal  kingdom.  It  therefore  proves  to  be  merely  the  first 
rudimentary  stage  of  the  human  understanding  of  life. 

The  personality  manifests  here  its  infinite  worth  in  so  far  as 
the  absolute  self  negates  all  limitation,  in  so  far  as  it  asserts,  “ I 
am  not  bound  by  anything,  I have  experienced  all  things,  and 
know  that  all  is  an  empty  dream  and  I am  above  it  all.”  Negation 
of  existence  through  the  knowledge  of  it — this  is  in  what,  from 
the  Buddhist  point  of  view,  the  absolute  nature  of  the  human 
spirit  consists.  It  lifts  man  above  all  earthly  creatures  and  even 
above  all  gods,  for  they  are  gods  by  nature  only,  while  the  awakened 
sage  becomes  god  through  his  own  act  of  consciousness  and  will : 
he  is  an  auto-god , a god  self-made.  All  creation  is  material  for 
the  exercise  of  will  and  of  knowledge,  by  means  of  which  the 
individual  is  to  become  divine.  Single  individuals  who  have 
entered  upon  the  path  that  leads  to  this  end  form  the  normal  society 
or  brotherhood  (the  monastic  order)  which  is  included  in  the 
Buddhist  confession  of  faith  (I  take  my  refuge  ...  in  the 
Sangha).  But  this  society  obviously  has  significance  temporarily 
only,  until  its  members  attain  perfection  ; in  Nirvana  communal 
life,  like  all  other  determinations,  must  disappear  altogether.  In 
so  far  as  the  absolute  character  of  the  personality  is  understood  in 
Buddhism  in  the  negative  sense  only,  as  freedom  from  all  things, 
the  individual  stands  in  no  need  of  completion.  All  his  relations 
to  other  persons  simply  form  a ladder  which  is  pushed  away  as  soon 
as  the  height  of  absolute  indifference  is  attained.  The  negative 
character  of  the  Buddhist  ideal  renders  morality  itself,  as  well 
as  all  social  life,  a thing  of  purely  transitory  and  conditional 
significance. 

The  religiously-moral  feeling  of  reverence  ( pletas ) has  in 
Buddhism  no  true  and  abiding  object.  The  sage  who  knows  all 
things  and  has  become  free  from  everything  finds  no  longer  any- 
thing to  worship.  When  Buddha  Sakya-muni  attained  to  the 
supreme  understanding,  not  only  Indra  with  the  host  of  all  the 
Vedanta  deities,  but  the  supreme  god  of  the  all-powerful  priests, 
Brahma,  came  like  a humble  listener  to  hear  the  new  doctrine, 


INDIVIDUALLY -SOCIAL  CONSCIOUSNESS  235 

and,  becoming  enlightened,  worshipped  the  teacher.  And  yet 
Buddha  was  a man,  who  by  his  own  power  became  god  or  reached 
the  absolute  state — and  this  is  the  supreme  goal  for  every  human 
being.  Buddhists  reverence  the  memory  and  the  relics  of  their 
teacher  to  the  point  of  idolatry,  but  this  is  only  possible  so 
long  as  the  worshippers  are  still  imperfect.  The  perfect 
disciple  who  has  attained  Nirvana  no  longer  differs  from  Buddha 
himself,  and  loses  all  object  of  religious  feeling.  Therefore,  in 
principle,  the  Buddhist  ideal  destroys  the  possibility  of  the  religious 
relation,  and,  in  its  inmost  essence,  Buddhism  is  not  only  a religion 
of  negation,  but  a religion  of  self-negation. 

The  altruistic  part  of  morality  also  disappears  at  the  higher 
stages  of  the  true  way,  for  then  all  distinctions  are  seen  to  be 
illusory,  including  those  which  evoke  in  us  a feeling  of  pity  towards 
certain  objects,  events,  and  states.  “ Be  merciful  to  all  beings,” 
proclaims  the  elementary  moral  teaching  of  the  Sutras.  “ There 
are  no  beings,  and  all  feeling  is  the  fruit  of  ignorance,”  declares 
the  higher  metaphysics  of  Abhidhamma.1  Not  even  the  ascetic 
morality  has  positive  justification  in  Buddhism,  in  spite  of  its 
monasteries.  These  monasteries  are  simply  places  of  refuge  for 
contemplative  souls  who  have  given  up  worldly  vanity  and  are 
awaiting  their  entrance  into  Nirvana.  But  the  positive  moral 
asceticism — struggle  with  the  flesh  for  strengthening  the  spirit 
and  spiritualising  the  body — lies  altogether  outside  the  range  of 
Buddhist  thought.  The  spirit  is  for  it  only  the  knower,  and  the 
body  a phantom  known  as  such.  Bodily  death,  the  sight  of 
which  had  so  struck  Prince  Siddhartha,  merely  proves  that  life  is 
illusion,  from  which  we  must  become  free  ; but  no  Buddhist 
would  dream  of  resurrection.  If,  however,  the  supreme  goal  of 
asceticism  is  absent,  the  means  towards  it  can  have  no  significance. 
From  the  point  of  view  of  absolute  indifference  ascetic  rules,  like 
all  other,  lose  their  own  inherent  meaning.  They  are  preserved 
in  the  external  practice  of  Buddhism  simply  as  pedagogical  means 
for  spiritual  babes,  or  as  the  historical  legacy  of  Brahmanism.  The 
perfect  Buddhist  will  certainly  not  refrain  from  plentiful  food,  or 
distinguish  between  meat  and  vegetable  diet.  It  is  very  remark- 

1 The  Buddhist  doctrine  is  divided  into  three  sections  of  the  Holy  Law,  called,  there- 
fore, ‘The  three  baskets’  (Tripitaka)  : Sutra  contains  the  moral  doctrine,  Vinaya  the 
monastic  rules,  and  Abhidhamma  the  transcendental  wisdom. 


236  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

able  that  according  to  the  legend,  the  truth  of  which  there  is  no 
reason  to  doubt,  the  founder  of  this  religion,  which  is  supposed 
to  demand  strict  vegetarianism,  died  of  having  unwisely  partaken 
of  pig’s  flesh. 

VI 

Like  every  negative  doctrine  Buddhism  is  dependent  upon 
what  it  denies — upon  this  material  world,  this  sensuous  and  mortal 
life.  “All  this  is  illusion,”  it  repeats — and  it  gets  no  further,  for 
to  it  this  illusion  is  everything.  It  knows  with  certainty  only 
what  it  denies.  Of  what  it  affirms,  of  what  it  regards  as  not 
illusory,  it  has  no  positive  idea  at  all,  but  determines  it  negatively 
only  : Nirvana  is  inaction,  immovability,  stillness,  non-existence. 
Buddhism  knows  only  the  lower,  the  illusory  ; the  higher  and  the 
perfect  it  does  not  know,  but  merely  demands  it.  Nirvana  is  only 
a postulate,  and  not  the  idea  of  the  absolute  good.  The  idea  came 
from  the  Greeks  and  not  from  the  Hindus. 

Human  reason,  having  discovered  its  own  universal  and 
absolute  nature  by  rejecting  everything  finite  and  particular, 
could  not  rest  content  with  this  first  step.  From  the  conscious- 
ness that  the  material  existence  is  illusory  it  was  bound  to  pass 
to  that  which  is  not  illusory,  to  that  for  the  sake  of  which  it 
rejected  deceptive  appearance.  In  Indian  Buddhism  the  person- 
ality finds  its  absolute  significance  in  the  rejection  of  being  that  is 
unworthy  of  it.  In  Greek  thought,  which  found  its  practical 
embodiment  in  Socrates,  and  was  put  into  a theoretical  form  by 
his  pupil,  the  absolute  value  of  personality  is  justified  by  the  affirma- 
tion of  being  that  is  worthy  of  it — of  the  world  of  ideas  and  ideal 
relations.  Greek  idealism  no  less  than  Buddhism  realises  that 
all  transitory  things  are  illusory,  that  the  flux  of  material  reality 
is  only  the  phantom  of  being,  is  essentially  non-being  (to  pj  ov). 
The  practical  pessimism  of  the  Buddhist  is  entirely  shared  by 
the  Greek  consciousness. 

“ Whoso  craves  the  ampler  length  of  life,  not  content  to 
desire  a modest  span,  him  will  I judge  with  no  uncertain  voice  : 
he  cleaves  to  folly.  For  the  long  days  lay  up  full  many  things 
nearer  grief  than  joy  ; but  as  for  thy  delights,  their  place  shall 


INDIVIDUALLY -SOCIAL  CONSCIOUSNESS  237 

know  them  no  more,  when  a man’s  life  hath  lapsed  beyond  the 
fitting  term.”  1 

Although  there  is  here  involved  the  conceptioffof  measure  so 
characteristic  of  the  Greek  mind,  reflection  does  not  stop  at  this. 
Not  only  a disproportionately  long  life,  but  all  life  is  nothing  but  pain. 

“ Not  to  be  born  is,  past  all  prizing,  best  ; but  when  a man 
hath  seen  the  light,  this  is  next  best  by  far,  that  with  all  speed  he 
should  go  thither,  whence  he  hath  come. 

“ For  when  he  hath  seen  youth  go  by,  with  its  light  follies, 
what  troublous  affliction  is  strange  to  his  lot,  what  suffering  is  not 
therein  ?— envy,  frictions,  strife,  battles,  and  slaughters  ; and  last 
of  all,  age  claims  him  for  her  own — age,  dispraised,  infirm, 
unsociable,  unfriended,  with  whom  all  woe  of  woe  abides.”  2 

It  was  as  clear  to  the  Greek  higher  consciousness  as  to  the 
Hindu  that  human  will  blindly  striving  for  material  satisfaction 
cannot  find  it  under  any  material  conditions,  and  that  therefore 
the  real  good  from  this  point  of  view  is  not  the  enjoyment  of  life 
but  the  absence  of  life. 

“The  Deliverer  comes  at  the  last  to  all  alike — when  the  doom 
of  Hades  is  suddenly  revealed,  without  marriage  song,  or  lyre,  or 
dance — even  Death  at  the  last.” 3 

This  pessimistic  conception  expressed  by  poetry  was  also 
confirmed  by  Greek  philosophy  in  sentences  which  have  become 
the  alphabetic  truths  of  all  idealistic  and  spiritualistic  morality  : 
sensuous  life  is  the  prison  of  the  spirit,  body  is  the  coffin  of  the 
soul,  true  philosophy  is  the  practice  of  death,  etc.  But  although 
the  Greek  genius  appropriated  this  fundamental  conception  of 
Buddhism,  it  did  not  stop  there.  The  non-sensuous  aspect  of 
reality  revealed  to  it  its  ideal  content.  In  the  place  of  Nirvana 
the  Greeks  put  the  Cosmos  of  eternal  intelligible  essences 
(Platonic  Ideas)  or  the  organism  of  universal  reason  (in  the  philo- 
sophy of  the  Stoics).  Human  personality  now  affirms  its 
absolute  significance  not  by  merely  denying  what  is  false,  but  by 
intellectually  participating  in  what  is  true.  The  personal  bearer 
of  this  higher  universal  consciousness  is  not  the  monk  who 
renounces  the  illusion  of  the  real  being,  in  accordance  with 
the  principle  of  indifference,  but  the  philosopher  who  shares  in 
the  fulness  of  the  ideal  being  in  the  inner  unity  of  its  many 

1 The  Oedipus  Coloneus . 2 Ibid.  3 Ibid. 


238  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

forms.  Neither  the  one  nor  the  other  wishes  to  live  by  the  senses, 
but  the  second  lives  by  his  intellect  in  the  world  of  pure  Ideas, 
that  is,  of  what  is  worthy  of  existence,  and  is  therefore  true  and 
eternal.  It  is  a dualistic  point  of  view  : all  that  exists  has  a true 
positive  aspect,  in  addition  to  the  false,  material  side.  With 
regard  to  the  latter  the  Greek  philosophers  adopt  an  attitude  as 
negative  as  the  Hindu  c Gymnosophists.’  That  which  to  the 
senses  and  sensibility  is  a deceptive  appearance  contains  for  reason 
‘a  reflection  of  the  Idea,’  according  to  Plato,  or  ‘the  seed  of 
Reason,’  according  to  the  Stoics  (Aoyot  cnreppaTCKoi).  Hence  in 
human  life  there  is  an  opposition  between  that  which  is  con- 
formable to  Ideas  and  in  harmony  with  Reason,  and  that  which 
contradicts  the  ideal  norm.  The  true  sage  is  no  longer  a simple 
hermit  or  a wandering  monk,  who  has  renounced  life  and  is 
mildly  preaching  the  same  renunciation  to  others  ; he  is  one  who 
boldly  denounces  the  wrong  and  irrational  things  of  life.  Hence 
the  end  is  different  in  the  two  cases.  Buddha  Sakya-muni  peacefully 
dies  after  a meal  with  his  disciples,  while  Socrates,  condemned  and 
put  to  prison  by  his  fellow-citizens,  is  sentenced  by  them  to 
drink  a poisoned  cup.  But  in  spite  of  this  tragic  ending,  the 
attitude  of  the  Greek  idealist  to  the  reality  unworthy  of  him  is 
not  one  of  decisive  opposition.  The  highest  representative  of 
humanity  at  this  stage — the  philosopher — is  conscious  of  his 
absolute  worth  in  so  far  as  he  lives  by  pure  thought  in  the  truly- 
existent  intelligible  realm  of  Ideas  or  of  the  all-embracing 
rationality,  and  despises  the  false,  the  merely  phenomenal  being  of 
the  material  and  sensuous  world.  This  contempt,  when  bold  and 
genuine,  rouses  the  anger  of  the  crowd  which  is  wholly  engrossed 
with  the  lower  things,  and  the  philosopher  may  have  to  pay  for 
his  idealism  with  his  life — as  was  the  case  with  Socrates.  But 
in  any  case  his  attitude  to  the  unworthy  reality  is  merely  one  of 
contempt.  The  contempt  is  certainly  different  in  kind  from  that 
characteristic  of  Buddhism.  Buddha  despises  the  world  because 
everything  is  illusion.  The  very  indefiniteness  of  this  judgment, 
however,  takes  away  its  sting.  If  all  is  equally  worthless,  no 
one  in  particular  is  hurt  by  it,  and  if  nothing  but  Nirvana  is 
opposed  to  the  bad  reality,  the  latter  may  sleep  in  peace.  For 
Nirvana  is  an  absolute  state  and  not  the  norm  for  relative  states. 
Now  the  idealist  does  possess  such  a norm  and  he  despises  and 


INDIVIDUALLY-SOCIAL  CONSCIOUSNESS  239 

condemns  the  life  that  surrounds  him  not  because  it  inevitably 
shares  in  the  illusory  character  of  everything,  but  because  it  is 
abnormal,  irrational,  opposed  to  the  Idea.  Such  condemnation  is 
no  longer  neutral,  it  has  an  element  of  defiance  and  demand.  It 
is  slighting  to  all  who  are  bound  by  worldly  irrationality  and 
therefore  leads  to  hostility,  and  sometimes  to  persecution  and  the 
cup  with  poison. 

And  yet  there  is  something  accidental  about  this  conflict. 
Socrates  condemned  Athenian  customs  all  his  life  long  but  he 
was  not  persecuted  for  it  until  he  was  an  old  man  of  seventy  ; the 
persecution  was  obviously  due  to  a change  in  political  circum- 
stances. The  irrationality  of  the  Athenian  political  order  was  a 
local  peculiarity  ; the  customs  of  Sparta  were  better.  The  great- 
est of  Socrates’  pupils,  Plato,  went  later  on  to  Sicily  in  order  to- 
found  there,  with  the  help  of  Dionysius  of  Syracuse,  an  ideal  state 
in  which  philosophers  would  receive  the  reins  of  government 
instead  of  a cup  of  poison.  He  did  not  succeed,  but  on 
returning  to  Athens  he  was  able  to  teach  in  his  academy  without 
hindrance,  and  lived  undisturbed  to  a profound  old  age.  The 
disciples  of  Socrates,  as  well  as  other  preachers  of  idealism,  never 
suffered  systematic  persecution  ; they  were  disliked  but  tolerated. 
The  fact  is  that  idealism  by  the  nature  of  the  case  has  its  centre 
of  gravity  in  the  intelligible  world.  The  opposition  it  establishes 
between  the  normal  and  the  abnormal,  the  right  and  the  wrong, 
though  comparatively  definite,  remains  essentially  intellectual  and 
theoretical.  It  touches  upon  the  reality  it  condemns  but  does 
not  penetrate  to  the  heart  of  it.  We  know  how  superficial  were 
the  practical  ideals  of  Plato,  the  greatest  of  the  idealists.  They 
come  much  nearer  to  the  bad  reality  than  to  what  truly  is.  The 
realm  of  Ideas  is  an  all-embracing,  absolutely-universal  unity  ; 
there  are  no  limitations,  dissensions,  or  hostility  in  it.  But  Plato’s 
pseudo-ideal  state,  though  involving  some  bold  conceptions  and  a 
general  beauty  of  form,  is  essentially  connected  with  such  limita- 
tions of  which  humanity  soon  freed  itself  not  in  idea  only  but  in 
reality.  His  state  of  philosophers  is  nothing  more  than  a narrow, 
local,  nationally  Greek  community  based  upon  slavery,  constant 
warfare,  and  such  relations  between  the  sexes  as  remind  one  of 
stables  for  covering.  It  is  clear  that  the  political  problem  is  not 
in  any  inner  connection  with  Plato’s  main  interest  and  that  he 


240  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

does  not  really  care  in  what  way  men  are  going  to  live  upon 
earth,  where  truth  does  not  and  will  not  dwell.  He  finds  his  own 
true  satisfaction  in  the  contemplation  of  eternal  intelligible  truth. 
The  natural  impulse  to  realise  or  embody  truth  in  the  environ- 
ment is  checked  by  two  considerations,  which  idealism  necessarily 
involves.  The  first  is  the  conviction  that  though  the  ideal  truth 
can  be  reflected  or  impressed  upon  the  surface  of  real  existence, 
it  cannot  become  substantially  incarnate  in  it.  The  second  is 
the  belief  that  our  own  spirit  is  connected  with  this  reality  in  a 
purely  transitory  and  external  fashion,  and  therefore  can  have  no 
absolute  task  to  fulfil  in  it. 

The  dying  Socrates  rejoiced  at  leaving  this  world  of  false 
appearance  for  the  realm  of  what  truly  is.  Such  an  attitude 
obviously  excludes  in  the  last  resort  all  practical  activity  ; there 
can  in  that  case  be  neither  any  obligation  nor  any  desire  to  devote 
oneself  to  the  changing  of  this  life,  to  the  salvation  of  this  world. 
Platonic  idealism,  like  Buddhist  nihilism,  lifts  up  human  person- 
ality to  the  level  of  the  absolute,  but  does  not  create  for  it  a social 
environment  corresponding  to  its  absolute  significance.  The 
brotherhood  of  monks,  like  the  state  of  philosophers,  is  merely  a 
temporal  compromise  of  the  sage  with  the  false  existence.  His 
true  satisfaction  is  in  the  pure  indifference  of  Nirvana,  or  in 
the  purely  intelligible  world  of  Ideas.  Are  we  to  say,  then,  that 
for  idealism  too  the  actual  life  is  devoid  of  meaning  ? We  discover 
at  this  point  so  great  an  inner  contradiction  in  the  idealistic  line 
of  thought  that  human  consciousness  is  unable  to  stop  at  this 
stage  and  to  accept  it  as  the  highest  truth. 

VII 

If  the  world  in  which  we  live  did  not  share  in  the  ideal  or  the 
true  being  at  all,  idealism  itself  would  be  impossible.  The  direct 
representative  of  the  ideal  principle  in  this  world  is,  of  course,  the 
philosopher  himself,  who  contemplates  that  which  truly  is.  But 
the  philosopher  did  not  drop  down  from  heaven  ; his  reason  is 
only  the  highest  expression  of  the  universal  human  reason  em- 
bodied in  the  word  which  is  an  essentially  universal  fact  and  is  the 
real  idea  or  the  sensible  reason.  This  was  clearly  perceived  by 
Heraclitus,  worked  out  and  explained  by  Socrates,  Plato,  Aristotle, 


INDIVIDUALLY -SOCIAL  CONSCIOUSNESS  241 

and  Zeno  the  Stoic.  But  the  presence  of  the  higher  principle  is 
not  limited  to  the  human  world.  The  purposive  organisation  and 
movements  of  living  creatures  and  the  general  teleological  con- 
nection of  events  provided  Socrates  himself  with  his  favourite 
argument  for  proving  the  presence  of  reason  in  the  world.  The 
ideal  principle,  however,  is  found  not  only  where  there  is  evidence 
of  purpose  ; it  extends  to  all  determinate  being  and  excludes  only 
the  principle  directly  opposed  to  it — the  unlimited,  the  chaos 
(to  aireipov  = to  firj  ov).  Measure,  limit,  norm,  necessarily  in- 
volve Reason  and  Idea.  But  if  so,  the  opposition,  so  essential  for 
idealism,  between  the  world  of  sensible  appearances  and  the  world 
of  intelligible  essences  proves  to  be  relative  and  changeable. 
Since  all  determinate  existence  participates  in  Ideas,  the  difference 
can  only  be  in  the  degree  of  the  participation.  A plant  or  an 
animal  exhibits  a greater  wealth  of  definitely-thought  content,  and 
stands  in  more  complex  and  intimate  relations  to  all  other  things 
than  a simple  stone  or  an  isolated  natural  event.  Therefore  we 
must  admit  that  animal  and  vegetable  organisms  have  a greater 
share  of  the  Idea  or  a greater  degree  of  ideality  than  a stone  or  a 
pool  of  water.  Further,  every  human  being  as  possessing  the 
power  of  speech  or  capable  of  rational  thought,  presents,  as  com- 
pared with  an  animal,  a greater  degree  of  ideality.  The  same 
relation  holds  between  an  ignorant  man  given  to  passions  and 
vices  and  the  philosopher  whose  word  is  an  expression  of  reason 
not  only  in  the  formal  sense  but  in  its  concrete  application. 
Finally,  even  philosophers  differ  from  one  another  in  the  degree 
to  which  they  have  mastered  the  higher  truth.  This  difference 
in  the  degree  of  rationality  in  the  world,  ranging  from  a cobble- 
stone to  the  ‘divine’  Plato,  is  not  anything  meaningless  or 
opposed  to  the  Idea.  It  would  be  that  if  reason  demanded  in- 
difference and  the  ‘Idea’  designated  uniformity.  But  reason  is 
the  universal  connectedness  of  all  things,  and  the  Idea  is  the  form 
of  the  inner  union  of  the  many  in  the  one.  (Take,  e.g.,  the  idea  of 
the  organism  which  includes  many  parts  and  elements  subservient 
to  a common  end  ; or  the  idea  of  the  state  combining  a multitude 
of  interests  in  one  universal  good  ; or  the  idea  of  science,  in  which 
many  pieces  of  information  form  a single  truth.)  Therefore  our 
reality,  in  which  innumerable  things  and  events  are  combined  and 
coexist  in  one  universal  order,  must  be  recognised  as  essentially 


242  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


rational  or  conformable  to  the  Idea.  Condemnation  of  this  reality 
on  the  part  of  the  idealist  can  in  justice  refer  not  to  the  general 
nature  of  the  world,  or  to  the  differences  of  degree  that  follow 
from  it  and  are  essential  to  the  higher  unity,  but  only  to  such 
mutual  relation  of  degrees  as  does  not  correspond  to  their  inner 
dignity.  The  Idea  of  man  is  not  violated  but  completed  by  the 
fact  that  in  addition  to  intellect  man  has  active  will  and  sensuous 
receptivity.  But  since  intellect,  which  contemplates  universal 
truth,  is  essentially  higher  than  desires  and  sensations,  which  are 
limited  to  the  particular,  it  ought  to  dominate  them.  If,  on  the 
contrary,  these  lower  aspects  gain  the  upper  hand  in  the  life  of 
man,  his  Idea  becomes  distorted  and  what  takes  place  in  him  is 
abnormal  and  meaningless.  In  the  same  way,  the  distinction  of 
state  or  class  is  not  opposed  to  the  idea  of  civic  community  pro- 
vided the  interrelation  between  the  classes  is  determined  by  their 
inner  quality.  But  if  a group  of  men  who  have  more  capacity 
for  menial  work  than  for  knowledge  and  realisation  of  higher 
truth  dominate  the  community  and  take  into  their  hands  the 
government  and  the  education  of  the  people,  while  men  of  true 
knowledge  and  wisdom  are  forced  to  devote  their  powers  to 
physical  labour,  then  the  state  contradicts  its  Idea  and  loses  all  its 
meaning.  The  supremacy  of  the  lower  faculties  of  the  soul  over 
reason  in  the  individual,  and  the  supremacy  of  the  material  class 
over  the  intellectual  in  society,  are  instances  of  one  and  the  same 
kind  of  distortion  and  absurdity.  This  is  how  idealism  regards 
it  when  it  resolutely  denounces  the  fundamental  evil  both  of  the 
mental  and  of  the  social  life  of  man.  It  is  for  thus  denouncing 
it  that  Socrates  had  to  die,  but,  strange  to  say,  not  even  this 
tragic  fact  made  his  disciples  realise  that  in  addition  to  the  moral 
and  political  there  exists  in  the  world  a third  kind  of  evil — the 
physical  evil,  death.  This  illogical  limitation  to  the  first  two 
anomalies — the  bad  soul  and  the  bad  society, — this  artificial  break 
between  the  morally- social  and  the  naturally- organic  life  is 
characteristic  of  the  idealist  point  of  view  as  of  an  intermediary 
and  transitional  stage  of  thought,  a half-hearted  and  half-expressed 
universalism. 

And  yet  it  is  clear  that  the  dominion  of  death  in  the  world  of 
the  living  is  the  same  kind  of  disorder , the  same  distortion  of 
degrees,  as  the  mastery  of  blind  passions  in  the  rational  soul  or  the 


INDIVIDUALLY -SOCIAL  CONSCIOUSNESS  243 


mastery  of  the  mob  in  human  society.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
the  inwardly  purposive  structure  and  life  of  the  organism  realises 
the  ideal  principle  in  nature  in  a greater  measure  and  a higher 
degree  than  do  the  elementary  forces  of  inorganic  substance.  It 
is  clear  then  that  the  triumph  of  these  forces  over  life,  their  escape 
from  its  power  and  the  final  disruption  of  the  organism  by  them, 
is  contradictory  to  the  normal,  ideal  order,  is  senseless  or  anomalous. 
Life  does  not  destroy  the  lower  forces  of  substance  but  subordinates 
them  to  itself  and  thereby  vivifies  them.  It  is  clear  that  such 
subordination  of  the  lower  to  the  higher  is  the  norm,  and  that 
therefore  the  reverse  relation,  involving,  as  it  does,  the  destruction 
of  the  higher  form  of  existence  in  its  given  reality,  cannot  be 
justified  or  pronounced  legitimate  from  the  point  of  view  of  reason 
and  of  the  Idea.  Death  is  not  an  Idea,  but  the  rejection  of  the 
Idea,  the  rebellion  of  blind  force  against  reason.  Therefore 
Socrates’  joy  at  his  death  was,  strictly  speaking,  simply  an  excus- 
able and  touching  weakness  of  an  old  man  wearied  by  the  troubles 
of  life,  and  not  an  expression  of  the  higher  consciousness.  In  a 
mind  occupied  with  the  essence  of  things  and  not  with  personal 
feeling,  this  death  ought  to  evoke,  instead  of  joy,  a double  grief. 
Grievous  was  the  sentence  of  death  as  a social  wrong,  as  the 
triumph  of  the  wicked  and  ignorant  over  the  righteous  and  the 
wise  ; grievous  was  the  process  of  death  as  a physical  wrong,  as 
the  triumph  of  the  blind  and  soulless  power  of  a poisonous  substance 
over  a living  and  organised  body,  the  abode  of  a rational  spirit. 

All  the  world — not  merely  the  mental  and  political,  but  the 
physical  world  as  well — suffers  from  the  violated  norm  and  stands 
in  need  of  help.  And  it  can  be  helped  not  by  the  will-lessness  of 
the  ascetic,  renouncing  all  life  and  all  social  environment,  not  by 
the  intellectual  contemplation  of  the  philosopher  who  lives  by 
thought  alone  in  the  realm  of  Ideas,  but  by  the  living  power  of  the 
entire  human  being  possessing  absolute  significance  not  negatively 
or  ideally  only,  but  as  a concrete  reality.  Such  a being  is  the 
perfect  man  or  the  God-man,  who  does  not  forsake  the  world 
for  Nirvana  or  the  realm  of  Ideas,  but  comes  into  the  world  in 
order  to  save  it  and  regenerate  it  and  make  it  the  Kingdom  ot 
God,  so  that  the  perfect  individual  could  find  his  completion  in 
the  perfect  society. 


244  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


VIII 

The  absolute  moral  significance  of  human  personality  demands 
perfection  or  fulness  of  life.  This  demand  is  not  satisfied  either 
by  the  mere  negation  of  imperfection  (as  in  Buddhism)  or  by 
the  merely  ideal  participation  in  perfection  (as  in  Platonism 
and  all  idealism).  It  can  only  be  satisfied  by  perfection  being 
actually  present  and  realised  in  the  whole  man  and  in  the  whole 
of  human  life.  This  is  what  true  Christianity  stands  for  and 
wherein  it  essentially  differs  from  Buddhism  and  Platonism. 
Without  going  at  present  into  the  metaphysical  aspect  of  Chris- 
tianity, I am  simply  referring  here  to  the  fact  that  Christianity 
— and  it  alone — is  based  upon  the  idea  of  the  really  perfect  man 
and  perfect  society,  and  therefore  promises  to  fulfil  the  demand  for 
true  infinity,  inherent  in  our  consciousness.  It  is  clear  that  in 
order  to  attain  this  purpose  it  is  necessary  first  of  all  to  cease  to  be 
satisfied  with  the  limited  and  unworthy  reality,  and  to  renounce  it. 
It  is  equally  clear,  however,  that  this  is  only  the  first  step,  and  that 
if  man  goes  no  further  he  is  left  with  a mere  negation.  This 
first  step  which  the  universal  human  consciousness  had  to  take,  but 
at  which  it  ought  not  to  stop,  is  represented  by  Buddhism.  Having 
renounced  the  unworthy  reality,  I ought  to  replace  it  by  what  is 
worthy  of  existence.  But  to  do  so  I must  first  understand  or 
grasp  the  very  idea  of  worthy  existence — this  is  the  second  step, 
represented  by  idealism.  And  once  more  it  is  clear  that  we 
cannot  stop  at  this.  Truth  which  is  thinkable  only  and  not 
realisable — truth  which  does  not  embrace  the  whole  of  life — is  not 
what  is  demanded,  is  not  absolute  perfection.  The  third  and  final 
step  which  Christianity  enables  us  to  take  consists  in  a positive 
realisation  of  worthy  existence  in  all  things. 

The  Nirvana  of  the  Buddhists  is  external  to  everything — it  is 
negative  universalism.  The  ideal  cosmos  of  Plato  represents  only 
the  intelligible  or  the  thinkable  aspect  of  everything — it  is  incomplete 
universalism.  The  Kingdom  of  God,  revealed  by  Christianity, 
alone  actually  embraces  everything , and  is  positive , complete , and 
perfect  universalism.  It  is  clear  that  at  the  first  two  stages  of  univer- 
salism the  absolute  element  in  man  is  not  developed  to  the  end,  and 
therefore  remains  fruitless.  Nirvana  lies  outside  the  boundaries  of 
every  horizon  ; the  world  of  Ideas,  like  the  starry  heaven,  envelops 


INDIVIDUALLY-SOCIAL  CONSCIOUSNESS  245 


the  earth  but  is  not  united  to  it  ; the  absolute  principle  incarnate 
in  the  Sun  of  Truth  alone  penetrates  to  the  inmost  depths  of 
earthly  reality,  brings  forth  a new  life,  and  manifests  itself  as 
a new  order  of  being — as  the  all-embracing  Kingdom  of  God  : 
virtus  ejus  Integra  si  versa  fuerit  in  terram.1  And  without  the 
earth  there  can  be  no  heaven  for  man. 

We  have  seen  that  Buddhism,  unable  to  satisfy  the  uncondi- 
tional principle  of  morality  and  bring  about  the  fulness  of  life  or 
the  perfect  society,  is  destructive,  when  consistently  worked  out,  of 
the  chief  foundations  of  morality  as  such.  The  same  thing  must 
be  said  with  regard  to  Platonism.  Where  is  a consistent  idealist 
to  find  an  object  for  his  piety  ? The  popular  gods  he  regards 

sceptically,  or  at  best  with  wise  restraint.  The  ideal  essences, 
which  are  for  him  the  absolute  truth,  cannot  be  an  object  of  religious 
worship  neither  for  his  mortal  1 body,’  which  knows  nothing 
about  them,  nor  for  his  immortal  spirit,  which  knows  them  too 
intimately  and,  in  immediate  contemplation,  attains  complete 
equality  with  them.  Religion  and  religious  morality  is  a bond 
between  the  higher  and  the  lower — a bond  which  idealism,  with 
its  dual  character,  breaks  up,  leaving  on  the  one  side  the  divine 
incorporeal  and  sterile  spirit,  and  on  the  other,  the  material  body 
utterly  lacking  in  what  is  divine.  But  the  bond  thus  severed  by 
idealism  extends  farther  still.  It  is  the  basis  of  pity  as  well  as 
of  reverence.  What  can  be  an  object  of  pity  for  a consistent 
idealist  ? He  knows  only  two  orders  of  being — the  false,  material, 
and  the  true,  ideal  being.  The  false  being,  as  Anaximander  of 
Miletus  had  taught  before  Plato,  ought  in  justice  to  suffer  and  to 
perish,  and  it  deserves  no  pity.  The  true,  from  its  essence,  can- 
not suffer,  and  therefore  cannot  excite  pity  — and  this  was  the 
reason  why  the  dying  Socrates  did  nothing  but  rejoice  at  leaving 
a world  unworthy  of  pity  for  a realm  where  there  is  no  object 
for  it.  Finally,  idealism  provides  no  real  basis  for  the  ascetic 
morality  either.  A consistent  idealist  is  ashamed  of  the  general 
fact  of  having  a body,  in  the  words  of  the  greatest  of  Plato’s 
followers — Plotinus,  but  such  shame  has  no  significance  from  the 
moral  point  of  view.  It  is  impossible  for  man  so  long  as  he  lives 
on  earth  to  be  incorporeal,  and,  according  to  the  indisputable  rule 
ad  impossihilia  nemo  obligatur , the  shame  of  one’s  corporeality 
1 “ Its  power  is  whole  when  it  turns  to  the  earth  ” ( Tabula  smaragdina). 


246  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

either  demands  that  we  should  commit  suicide  or  demands  nothing 
at  all. 

If  instead  of  talcing  Buddhism  and  Platonism  to  be  what  they 
really  were,  viz.  necessary  stages  of  human  consciousness,  we  regard 
either  the  one  or  the  other  as  the  last  word  of  universal  truth,  the 
question  is,  what  precisely  had  they  given  to  humanity,  what  did 
they  gain  for  it  ? Taken  in  and  for  themselves  they  have  neither 
given  nor  promised  anything.  There  had  been  from  all  eternity 
the  opposition  between  Nirvana  and  Sansara — empty  bliss  for  the 
spiritually  awake,  and  empty  pain  for  the  spiritually  asleep  ; there 
had  been  the  inexorable  law  of  causal  actions  and  caused  states — 
the  law  of  Karma,  which  through  a series  of  innumerable  rebirths 
leads  a being  from  painful  emptiness  to  empty  bliss.  As  it  was 
before  Buddha,  so  it  remained  after  him,  and  so  it  will  remain  for 
all  eternity.  From  the  point  of  view  of  Buddhism  itself,  not  one 
of  its  followers  capable  of  critical  reflection  can  affirm  that 
Buddha  had  changed  anything  in  the  world  order,  had  created 
anything  new,  had  actually  saved  any  one.  Nor  is  there  any  room 
for  promise  in  the  future.  The  same  thing  must  in  the  long-run 
be  said  of  idealism.  There  is  the  eternal  realm  of  intelligible 
essences  which  truly  is  and  the  phenomenal  world  of  sensuous 
appearance.  There  is  no  bridge  between  the  two  ; to  be  in  the 
one  means  not  to  be  in  the  other.  Such  duality  has  always  been 
and  will  remain  for  ever.  Idealism  gives  no  reconciliation  in  the 
present  and  no  promise  of  it  in  the  future.1 

Christianity  has  a different  message.  It  both  gives  and 
promises  to  humanity  something  new.  It  gives  the  living  image 
of  a personality  possessing  not  the  merely  negative  perfection 
of  indifference  or  the  merely  ideal  perfection  of  intellectual 
contemplation,  but  perfection  absolute  and  entire,  fully  realised, 
and  therefore  victorious  over  death.  Christianity  reveals  to 
men  the  absolutely  perfect  and  therefore  physically  immortal 
personality.  It  promises  mankind  a perfect  society  built  upon 
the  pattern  of  this  personality.  And  since  such  a society  cannot 
be  created  by  an  external  force  (for  in  that  case  it  would  be  imper- 

1 Plato’s  thought  rose  for  a moment  to  the  conception  of  Eros  as  the  bridge  between 
the  world  of  true  being  and  the  material  reality,  but  did  not  follow  it  out.  In  enigmatic 
expressions  the  philosopher  indicated  this  bridge,  but  was  incapable  of  crossing  it  him- 
self or  leading  others  across  it. 


INDIVIDUALLY -SOCIAL  CONSCIOUSNESS  247 

feet),  the  promise  of  it  sets  a task  before  humanity  as  a whole 
and  each  man  individually,  to  co-operate  with  the  perfect  personal 
power  revealed  to  the  world  in  so  transforming  the  universe  that 
it  might  become  the  embodiment  of  the  Kingdom  of  God.  The 
final  truth,  the  absolute  and  positive  universalism  obviously  can- 
not be  either  exclusively  individual  or  exclusively  social  : it  must 
express  the  completeness  and  fulness  of  the  individually-social  life. 
True  Christianity  is  a perfect  synthesis  of  three  inseparable 
elements  : (1)  the  absolute  event — the  revelation  of  the  perfect 
personality,  the  God-man— Christ,  who  had  bodily  risen  from  the 
dead  ; (2)  the  absolute  promise — of  a community  conformable  to  the 
perfect  personality,  or,  in  other  words,  the  promise  of  the  Kingdom 
of  God  ; (3)  the  absolute  task — to  further  the  fulfilment  of  that 
promise  by  regenerating  all  our  individual  and  social  environment 
in  the  spirit  of  Christ.  If  any  one  of  these  three  foundations  is 
forgotten  or  left  out  of  account  the  whole  thing  becomes  paralysed 
and  distorted.  This  is  the  reason  why  the  moral  development  and 
the  external  history  of  humanity  have  not  stopped  after  the 
coming  of  Christ,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  Christianity  is  the 
absolute  and  final  revelation  of  truth.  That  which  has  been  ful- 
filled and  that  which  has  been  promised  stands  firmly  wfthin  the 
precincts  of  eternity  and  does  not  depend  upon  us.  But  the  task 
of  the  present  is  in  our  hands ; the  moral  regeneration  of  our  life 
must  be  brought  about  by  ourselves.  It  is  with  this  general 
problem  that  the  special  task  of  moral  philosophy  is  particularly 
concerned.  It  has  to  define  and  explain,  within  the  limits  of 
historical  fact,  what  the  relation  between  all  the  fundamental 
elements  and  aspects  of  the  individually-social  whole  ought  to  be 
in  accordance  with  the  unconditional  moral  norm. 


CHAPTER  III 


ABSTRACT  SUBJECTIVISM  IN  MORALITY 

I 

At  the  historical  stage  reached  by  human  consciousness  in 
Christianity,  moral  life  reveals  itself  as  a universal  and  all- 
embracing  task.  Before  going  on  to  discuss  its  concrete  historical 
setting,  we  must  consider  the  view  which,  on  principle,  rejects 
morality  as  a historical  problem  or  as  the  work  of  collective 
man,  and  entirely  reduces  it  to  the  subjective  moral  impulses  of 
individuals.  This  view  arbitrarily  puts  such  narrow  limits  to  the 
human  good  as  in  reality  it  has  never  known.  Strictly  speaking, 
morality  never  has  been  solely  the  affair  of  personal  feeling  or  the 
rule  of  private  conduct.  At  the  patriarchal  stage  the  moral 
demands  of  reverence,  pity,  and  shame  were  inseparably  connected 
with  the  duties  of  the  individual  to  his  kinsmen.  The  ‘ moral  ’ 
was  not  distinguished  from  the  ‘social,’  or  the  individual  from  the 
collective.  And  if  the  result  was  a morality  of  rather  a low  and 
limited  order,  this  was  not  due  to  the  fact  of  its  being  a collective 
morality,  but  to  the  generally  low  level  and  narrow  limits  of  the 
tribal  life,  which  expressed  merely  the  rudimentary  stage  of  the 
historical  development.  It  was  low  and  limited,  however,  only  by 
comparison  with  the  further  progress  of  morality,  and  certainly 
not  by  comparison  with  the  morality  of  savages  living  in  caves  and 
in  trees.  When  the  state  came  into  being,  and  the  domestic  life 
became  to  a certain  extent  a thing  apart,  morality  in  general 
was  still  determined  by  the  relation  between  individuals  and  the 
collective  whole  to  which  they  belonged — henceforth  a wider 
and  a more  complex  one.  It  was  impossible  to  be  moral 
apart  from  a definite  and  positive  relation  to  the  state  ; 

248 


ABSTRACT  SUBJECTIVISM  IN  MORALITY  249 

morality  was  in  the  first  place  a civic  virtue.  And  the  reason 
that  this  virtus  antiqua  no  longer  satisfies  us,  is  not  that  it  was 
a civic  and  not  merely  a domestic  virtue,  but  that  the  civic  life 
itself  was  too  remote  from  the  true  social  ideal,  and  was  merely 
a transition  from  the  barbarous  to  the  truly  human  culture. 
Morality  was  rightly  taken  to  consist  in  honourably  serving  the 
social  whole — the  state,  but  the  state  itself  was  based  upon  slavery, 
constant  wars,  etc.  ; what  is  to  be  condemned  is  not  the  social 
character  of  morality,  but  the  immoral  character  of  the 
social  whole.  In  a similar  way  we  condemn  the  ecclesi- 
astical morality  of  the  Middle  Ages,  not  of  course  because  it  was 
ecclesiastical,  but  because  the  Church  itself  was  then  far  from  being 
a truly  moral  organisation,  and  was  responsible  for  evil  as  well  as 
for  good — the  terrible  evil  of  religious  persecutions  and  torture — 
thus  violating  the  unconditional  principle  of  morality  in  its  own 
inner  domain. 

Christianity  as  the  ‘ Gospel  of  the  Kingdom  ’ proclaims  an 
ideal  that  is  unconditionally  high,  demands  an  absolute  morality. 
Is  this  morality  to  be  subjective  only , limited  to  the  inner  states 
and  individual  actions  of  the  subject  ? The  question  contains  its 
own  answer  ; but  to  make  the  matter  quite  clear,  let  us  first  grant 
all  that  is  true  in  the  exclusively -subjective  interpretation  of 
Christianity.  There  is  no  doubt  that  a perfect  or  absolute  moral 
state  must  be  inwardly  fully  experienced  or  felt  by  the  subject — 
must  become  his  own  state,  the  content  of  his  life.  If  perfect 
morality  were  recognised  as  subjective  in  this  sense,  the  difference 
would  be  purely  verbal.  But  something  else  is  really  meant. 
The  question  is,  how  is  this  moral  perfection  to  be  attained  by 
the  individual  ? Is  it  enough  that  each  should  strive  to  make 
himself  inwardly  better  and  act  accordingly,  or  is  it  attained 
with  the  help  of  a certain  social  process  the  effects  of  which  are 
collective  as  well  as  individual  ? The  adherents  of  the  former 
theory,  which  reduces  everything  to  individual  moral  activity, 
do  not  reject,  of  course,  either  the  social  life  or  the  moral  im- 
provement of  its  forms.  They  believe,  however,  that  such  im- 
provement is  simply  the  inevitable  consequence  of  the  personal 
moral  progress : like  individual,  like  society.  As  soon  as  each 
person  understands  and  reveals  to  others  his  own  true  nature,  and 
awakens  good  feelings  in  his  soul,  the  earth  will  become  paradise. 


250  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

Now  it  is  indisputable  that  without  good  thoughts  and  feelings 
there  can  be  neither  individual  nor  social  morality.  It  is  equally 
indisputable  that  if  all  individual  men  were  good,  society  would  be 
good  also.  But  to  think  that  the  actual  virtue  of  the  few  best  men 
is  sufficient  for  the  moral  regeneration  of  all  the  others,  is  to  pass 
into  the  world  where  babies  are  born  out  of  rose-bushes,  and  where 
beggars,  for  lack  of  bread,  eat  cakes.  The  question  we  are  mainly 
concerned  with  is  not  whether  the  individual’s  moral  efforts  are 
sufficient  to  make  him  perfect,  but  whether  those  unaided 
individual  efforts  can  induce  other  people , who  are  making  no 
moral  efforts  at  all,  to  begin  to  make  them. 

II 

The  insufficiency  of  the  subjective  good  and  the  necessity  for 
a collective  embodiment  of  it  is  unmistakably  proved  by  the  whole 
course  of  human  history.  I will  give  one  concrete  illustration. 

At  the  end  of  Homer’s  Odyssey  it  is  related,  with  obvious 
sympathy,  how  this  typical  hero  of  the  Hellenes  re-established 
justice  and  order  in  his  house,  having  overcome  at  last  the  enmity 
of  gods  and  men  and  destroyed  his  rivals.  With  his  son’s  help 
he  executed  those  of  his  servants  who,  during  his  twenty  years’ 
absence,  when  everybody  had  given  him  up  for  dead,  sided  with 
Penelope’s  suitors  and  did  not  oppose  the  latter  making  themselves 
at  home  in  Odysseus’s  house  : 

“Now  when  they  had  made  an  end  of  setting  the  hall  in  order, 
they  led  the  maidens  forth  from  the  stablished  hall,  and  drove 
them  up  in  a narrow  space  between  the  vaulted  room  and  the 
goodly  fence  of  the  court,  whence  none  might  avoid  ; and  wise 
Telemachus  began  to  speak  to  his  fellows,  saying:  ‘God  forbid 
that  I should  take  these  women’s  lives  by  a clean  death,  these  that 
have  poured  dishonour  on  my  head  and  on  my  mother,  and  have 
lain  with  the  wooers.’  With  that  word  he  tied  the  cable  of  a 
dark-prowed  ship  to  a great  pillar  and  flung  it  round  the  vaulted 
room,  and  fastened  it  aloft,  that  none  might  touch  the  ground 
with  her  feet.  And  even  as  when  thrushes,  long  of  wing,  or 
doves  fall  into  a net  that  is  set  in  a thicket,  as  they  seek  to  their 
roosting-place,  and  a loathly  bed  harbours  them,  even  so  the 
women  held  their  heads  all  in  a row,  and  about  all  their  necks 


ABSTRACT  SUBJECTIVISM  IN  MORALITY  251 

nooses  were  cast,  that  they  might  die  by  the  most  pitiful  death. 
And  they  writhed  with  their  feet  for  a little  space,  but  for  no  long 
while.  Then  they  led  out  Melanthius  through  the  doorway  and  the 
court  and  cut  off  his  nostrils  and  his  ears  with  the  pitiless  sword, 
and  drew  forth  his  vitals  for  the  dogs  to  devour  raw,  and  cut  off 
his  hands  and  feet  in  their  cruel  anger”  ( Odyssey , xxii.  457-477). 

Odysseus  and  Telemachus  were  not  monsters  of  inhumanity  ; 
on  the  contrary,  they  represented  the  highest  ideal  of  the  Homeric 
epoch.  Their  personal  morality  was  irreproachable,  they  were 
full  of  piety,  wisdom,  justice,  and  all  the  family  virtues.  Odysseus 
had,  into  the  bargain,  an  extremely  sensitive  heart,  and  in  spite  of 
his  courage  and  firmness  in  misfortune,  shed  tears  at  every  con- 
venient opportunity.  This  very  curious  and  characteristic  feature 
attaches  to  him  throughout  the  poem.  As  I have  not  in  literature 
come  across  any  special  reference  to  this  peculiar  characteristic 
of  the  Homeric  hero,  I will  allow  myself  to  go  into  some  detail. 

At  his  first  appearance  in  the  Odyssey  he  is  represented  as 
weeping  : — 

£C  Odysseus  ...  sat  weeping  on  the  shore  even  as  aforetime, 
straining  his  soul  with  tears  and  groans  and  griefs,  and  as  he  wept 
he  looked  wistfully  over  the  unharvested  deep”  (v.  82-84;  also 

I5I>  152,  156-158). 

In  his  own  words  : “ There  I abode  for  seven  years  continually, 
and  watered  with  my  tears  the  imperishable  raiment  that  Calypso 
gave  me  ” (vii.  259-260). 

He  wept  at  the  thought  of  his  distant  native  land  and  family, 
and  also  at  remembering  his  own  exploits  : — 

“.  . . The  Muse  stirred  the  minstrel  to  sing  the  songs  or 
famous  men.  . . . The  quarrel  between  Odysseus  and  Achilles, 
son  of  Peleus.  . . . This  song  it  was  that  the  famous  minstrel 
sang ; but  Odysseus  caught  his  great  purple  cloak  with  his 
stalwart  hands,  and  drew  it  down  over  his  head,  and  hid  his 
comely  face,  for  he  was  ashamed  to  shed  tears  beneath  his  brows 
in  presence  of  the  Phaeacians  ” (viii.  73-86). 

Further  : — 

cc  This  was  the  song  that  the  famous  minstrel  sang.  But  the 
heart  of  Odysseus  melted,  and  the  tear  wet  his  cheeks  beneath  the 
eyelids.  And  as  a woman  throws  herself  wailing  about  her  dead 
lord,  who  hath  fallen  before  his  city  and  the  host,  warding  from 


252  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

his  town  and  his  children  the  pitiless  day  . . . even  so  pitifully 
fell  the  tears  beneath  the  brows  of  Odysseus”  (viii.  521-525). 

He  weeps  on  being  told  by  Circe  of  the  journey — though  a 
perfectly  safe  one — he  has  to  make  to  Hades  : — 

“Thus  spake  she,  but  as  for  me,  my  heart  was  broken,  and  I 
wept  as  I sat  upon  the  bed,  and  my  soul  had  no  more  care  to  live 
and  to  see  the  sunlight  ” (x.  496-499). 

It  is  no  wonder  that  Odysseus  weeps  when  he  sees  his  mother’s 
shadow  (xi.  87),  but  he  is  affected  just  as  much  by  the  shadow  of 
the  worst  and  most  worthless  of  his  followers,  of  whom  “an  evil 
doom  of  some  god  was  the  bane  and  wine  out  of  measure  ” 
(xi.  61 ). 

“There  was  one,  Elpenor,  the  youngest  of  us  all,  not  very 
valiant  in  war,  neither  steadfast  in  mind.  He  was  lying  apart 
from  the  rest  of  my  men  on  the  housetop  of  Circe’s  sacred 
dwelling,  very  fain  of  the  cool  air,  as  one  heavy  with  wine.  Now 
when  he  heard  the  noise  of  the  voices  and  of  the  feet  of  my  fellows 
as  they  moved  to  and  fro,  he  leaped  up  of  a sudden  and  minded 
him  not  to  descend  again  by  the  way  of  the  tall  ladder,  but  fell 
right  down  from  the  roof,  and  his  neck  was  broken  from  the  bones 
of  the  spine,  and  his  spirit  went  down  to  the  house  of  Hades” 
(x.  552-561). 

“At  the  sight  of  him  I wept  and  had  compassion  on  him” 
(xi.  55). 

He  weeps,  too,  at  the  sight  of  Agamemnon  : — 

“ Thus  we  twain  stood  sorrowing,  holding  sad  discourse,  while 
the  big  tears  fell  fast”  (xi.  465-466). 

He  weeps  bitterly  at  finding  himself  at  last  in  his  native 
Ithaca  (xiii.  219-221),  and  still  more  so  on  beholding  his  son  : — 

“ ...  In  both  their  hearts  arose  the  desire  of  lamentation. 
And  they  wailed  aloud,  more  ceaselessly  than  birds,  sea-eagles  or 
vultures  of  crooked  claws,  whose  younglings  the  country  folk  have 
taken  from  the  nest,  ere  yet  they  are  fledged.  Even  so  pitifully 
fell  the  tears  beneath  their  brows”  (xvi.  215-220). 

Odysseus  shed  tears,  too,  at  the  sight  of  his  old  dog  Argus : — 

“ Odysseus  looked  aside  and  wiped  away  a tear  that  he  easily 
hid  from  Eumaeus  ” (xvii.  304-305). 

He  weeps  before  assassinating  the  suitors,  he  weeps  as  he  em- 
braces the  godlike  swine-herd  Eumaeus,  and  the  goodly  cow-herd 


ABSTRACT  SUBJECTIVISM  IN  MORALITY  253 

Philoetius  (xxi.  225-227),  and  also  after  the  brutal  murder  of  the 
twelve  maid-servants  and  the  goat-herd  Melanthius  : — 

“ A sweet  longing  came  upon  him  to  weep  and  to  moan,  for 
he  remembered  them  every  one”  (xxii.  500-501). 

The  last  two  chapters  of  the  Odyssey  also  have,  of  course,  an 
abundant  share  of  the  hero’s  tears  : — 

“ ...  in  his  heart  she  stirred  yet  a greater  longing  to  lament, 
and  he  wept  as  he  embraced  his  beloved  wife  and  true”  (xxiii. 
231-232). 

And  further  : — 

“ Now  when  the  steadfast  goodly  Odysseus  saw  his  father  thus 
wasted  with  age  and  in  great  grief  of  heart,  he  stood  still  beneath 
a tall  pear  tree  and  let  fall  a tear  ” (xxiv.  233-235). 

So  far  as  the  personal,  subjective  feeling  is  concerned  Odysseus 
was  obviously  quite  equal  to  the  most  developed  and  highly-strung 
man  of  our  own  day.  Speaking  generally,  Homeric  heroes  were 
capable  of  all  the  moral  sentiments  and  emotions  of  the  heart  that 
we  are  capable  of — and  that  not  only  in  relation  to  their  neighbours 
in  the  narrow  sense  of  the  term,  i.e.  to  men  immediately  connected 
with  them  by  common  interests,  but  also  in  relation  to  people 
remote  and  distant  from  them.  The  Phaeacians  were  strangers 
to  the  shipwrecked  Odysseus,  and  yet  what  kindly  human  relations 
were  established  between  him  and  them  ! And  if,  in  spite  of  all 
this,  the  heroes  of  antiquity  performed  with  a clear  conscience  deeds 
which  are  now  morally  impossible  for  us,  this  was  certainly  not 
due  to  their  lack  of  personal,  subjective  morality.  These  men  were 
certainly  as  capable  as  we  are  of  good  human  feelings  towards  both 
neighbours  andstrangers.  What  then  is  the  differenceand  whatisthe 
ground  of  the  change  ? Why  is  it  that  virtuous,  wise,  and  sentimental 
men  of  the  Homeric  age  thought  it  permissible  and  praiseworthy 
to  hang  frivolous  maid-servants  like  thrushes  and  to  chop  unworthy 
servants  as  food  for  the  dogs,  while  at  the  present  day  such  actions 
can  only  be  done  by  maniacs  or  born  criminals  ? Reasoning  in 
an  abstract  fashion  one  might  suppose  that  although  the  men  of 
that  distant  epoch  had  good  mental  feelings  and  impulses,  they  had 
no  conscious  good  principles  and  rules.  Owing  to  the  absence  of 
a formal  criterion  between  right  and  wrong,  or  a clear  consciousness 
of  the  distinction  between  good  and  evil,  morality  was  purely 
empirical  in  character,  and  even  the  best  of  men,  capable  of  the 


254  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

finest  moral  emotions,  could  indulge  unchecked  in  wild  outbursts 
of  brutality.  In  truth,  however,  we  find  no  such  formal  defect  in 
the  thought  of  the  ancients. 

Men  of  antiquity,  just  like  ourselves,  both  had  their  good  and 
bad  qualities  as  a natural  fact,  and  drew  the  distinction  of  principle 
between  good  and  evil,  recognising  that  the  first  was  to  be 
preferred  unconditionally  to  the  second.  In  those  same  poems  of 
Homer  which  often  strike  us  by  their  ethical  barbarisms,  the  idea 
of  moral  duty  appears  with  perfect  clearness.  Certainly  Penelope’s 
mode  of  thought  and  expression  does  not  quite  coincide  with 
that  of  Kant  ; nevertheless  the  following  words  of  the  wife  of 
Odysseus  contain  a definite  affirmation  of  the  moral  good  as  an 
eternal,  necessary,  and  universal  principle  : — 

“ Man’s  life  is  brief  enough  ! And  if  any  be  a hard  man  and 
hard  at  heart,  all  men  cry  evil  on  him  for  the  time  to  come,  while 
yet  he  lives,  and  all  men  mock  him  when  he  is  dead.  But  if  any 
be  a blameless  man  and  blameless  of  heart,  his  guests  spread  abroad 
his  fame  over  the  whole  earthy  and  many  people  call  him  noble  ” 
(xix.  328-334). 

Ill 

The  form  of  moral  consciousness,  the  idea,  namely,  of  the  good 
as  absolutely  binding  and  of  evil  as  absolutely  unpermissible,  was 
present  in  the  mind  of  the  ancients  as  it  is  in  our  own.  It  might 
be  thought,  however,  that  the  important  difference  between  us 
and  them  in  the  moral  valuation  of  the  same  actions  is  due  to 
the  change  in  the  actual  content  of  the  moral  ideal.  There  can  be 
no  doubt  that  the  Gospel  has  raised  our  ideal  of  virtue  and  holiness 
and  made  it  much  higher  and  wider  than  the  Homeric  ideal.  But 
it  is  equally  certain  that  this  perfect  ideal  of  morality,  when  it  has 
no  objective  embodiment  and  is  accepted  purely  in  the  abstract, 
produces  no  change  whatever  either  in  the  life  or  in  the  actual 
moral  consciousness  of  men,  and  does  not  in  any  way  raise  their 
practical  standards  for  judging  their  own  and  other  people’s  actions. 

It  is  sufficient  to  refer  once  more  to  the  representatives  of 
mediaeval  Christianity,  who  treated  the  supposed  enemies  of  their 
Church  with  greater  cruelty  than  Odysseus  treated  the  enemies 
of  his  family — and  did  so  with  a clear  conscience,  and  even  with 


ABSTRACT  SUBJECTIVISM  IN  MORALITY  255 

the  conviction  of  fulfilling  a moral  duty.  At  a time  more  en- 
lightened and  less  remote  the  American  planters  who  belonged  to 
the  Christian  faith,  and  therefore  stood  under  the  sign  of  an  un- 
conditionally high  moral  ideal,  treated  their  black  slaves  on  the 
whole  no  better  than  the  pagan  Odysseus  treated  his  faithless 
servants,  and,  like  him,  considered  themselves  right  in  doing  so. 
So  that  not  only  their  actions  but  even  their  practical  consciousness 
remained  unaffected  by  the  higher  truth  which  they  theoretically 
professed  in  the  abstract. 

I.  I.  Dubasov’s  Historical  Sketches  of  the  Tambov  District 
contain  an  account  of  the  exploits  of  K.,  a landowner  in  the 
district  of  Yelatma,  who  flourished  in  the  ’forties  of  the  present 
century.  The  Commission  of  Inquiry  established  that  many  serfs 
(children  especially)  had  been  tortured  by  him  to  death,  and  that 
on  his  estate  there  was  not  a single  peasant  who  had  not  been 
flogged,  and  not  a single  serf-girl  who  had  not  been  outraged.  But 
more  significant  than  this  ‘misuse  of  power  5 was  the  relation  of 
the  public  to  it.  When  cross-examined,  most  of  the  gentry  in 
the  district  spoke  of  K.  as  ‘a  true  gentleman.’  Some  added, 
“K.  is  a true  Christian  and  observes  all  the  rites  of  the  Church.” 
The  Marshal  of  Nobility  wrote  to  the  Governor  of  the  province  : 
“ All  the  district  is  alarmed  by  the  troubles  of  Mr.  K.”  In  the 
end  the  ‘ true  Christian  ’ was  excused  from  legal  responsibility, 
and  the  local  gentry  could  set  their  hearts  at  rest.1  The  same 
sympathy  from  men  of  his  own  class  was  enjoyed  by  another  and 
still  more  notorious  Tambov  landowner,  Prince  U.  N.  G — n,  of 
whom  it  was  written  with  good  reason  to  the  Chief  of  the  Police  : 
“ Even  animals  on  meeting  U.  N.  instinctively  seek  to  hide  wher- 
ever they  can.”  2 

Some  three  thousand  years  elapsed  between  the  heroes  of 
Homer  and  the  heroes  of  Mr.  Dubasov,  but  no  essential  and  stable 
change  had  taken  place  in  the  conduct  and  the  moral  consciousness 
of  men  with  regard  to  the  enslaved  part  of  the  population.  The 
same  inhuman  relations  that  were  approved  of  by  the  ancient 
Greeks  in  the  Homeric  age  were  regarded  as  permissible  by  the 
American  and  Russian  slave -owners  in  the  first  half  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  These  relations  are  revolting  to  us  now, 

1 Ocherki  iz  istorii  Tambovskago  Kraia , by  I,  I.  Dubasov,  vol.  i.,  Tambov,  1890, 
pp.  162-167.  2 Ibid.  p.  92. 


256  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

but  our  ethical  standards  have  been  raised  not  in  the  course  of  the 
three  thousand  years,  but  only  of  the  last  thirty  years  (in  our  case 
and  that  of  the  Americans,  and  a few  dozens  of  years  earlier  in 
Western  Europe).  What,  then,  had  happened  so  recently? 
What  has  produced  in  so  short  a period  the  change  which  long 
centuries  of  historical  development  were  unable  to  accomplish  ? 
Has  some  new  moral  conception,  some  new  and  higher  ideal  of 
morality  appeared  in  our  day  ? 

There  has  been  and  there  could  have  been  nothing  of  the  kind. 
No  ideal  can  be  conceived  higher  than  that  revealed  eighteen 
hundred  years  ago.  That  ideal  was  known  to  the  ‘ true  Christians’ 
of  the  American  States  and  the  Russian  provinces.  They  could 
learn  no  new  idea  in  this  respect  ; but  they  experienced  a new  fact. 
The  idea  restricted  to  the  subjective  sphere  of  personal  morality 
could  not  during  thousands  of  years  bear  the  fruit  which  it  bore  in 
the  course  of  the  few  years  when  it  was  embodied  as  a social  force, 
and  became  the  common  task.  Under  very  different  historical 
conditions  the  organised  social  whole  invested  with  power  decided, 
both  in  America  and  in  Russia,  to  put  an  end  to  the  too  glaring 
violation  of  Christian  justice — both  human  and  divine — in  the  life 
of  the  community.  In  America  it  was  attained  at  the  price  of 
blood,  through  a terrible  civil  war  ; in  Russia — by  the  authoritative 
action  of  the  Government.  It  is  owing  to  this  fact  alone  that  the 
fundamental  demands  of  justice  and  humanity,  presupposed  by 
the  supreme  ideal  though  not  exhaustive  of  it,  were  transferred 
from  the  narrow  and  unstable  limits  of  subjective  feeling  to  the 
wide  and  firm  ground  of  objective  reality  and  transformed  into 
a universally  binding  law.  And  we  see  that  this  external 
political  act  immediately  raised  the  standard  of  our  inner  con- 
sciousness, that  is,  achieved  a result  which  millenniums  of  moral 
preaching  alone  could  not  achieve.  The  social  movement  and  the 
action  of  the  Government  were  of  course  themselves  conditioned  by 
the  previous  moral  preaching,  but  that  preaching  had  effect  upon 
the  majority,  upon  the  social  environment  as  a whole,  only  when 
embodied  in  measures  organised  by  the  Government.  Owing 
to  external  restraint,  brutal  instincts  were  no  longer  able  to  find 
expression  ; they  had  to  pass  into  a state  of  inactivity,  and  were 
gradually  atrophied  from  lack  of  exercise  ; in  most  people  they 
disappeared  altogether  and  were  no  longer  passed  on  to  the 


ABSTRACT  SUBJECTIVISM  IN  MORALITY  257 

generations  that  followed.  At  present  even  men  who  openly  sigh 
for  the  serfdom  make  sincere  reservations  with  regard  to  the  abuse 
of  the  owners’  power,  while  forty  years  ago  that  abuse  was 
regarded  as  compatible  with  ‘true  nobility,’  and  even  with  ‘true 
Christianity.’  And  yet  there  is  no  reason  to  believe  that  the 
fathers  were  intrinsically  worse  than  the  sons. 

Let  it  be  granted  that  the  heroes  of  Mr.  Dubasov’s  chronicle, 
whom  the  Tambov  gentry  defended  simply  from  class  interests, 
were  really  below  the  average  of  the  society  around  them.  But 
apart  from  them  there  was  a multitude  of  perfectly  decent  men, 
free  from  all  brutality,  who  conscientiously  felt  they  had  a right  to 
make  full  use  of  the  privileges  of  their  class — for  instance,  to  sell 
their  serfs  like  cattle,  retail  or  wholesale.  And  if  such  things  are 
now  impossible  even  for  scoundrels, — however  much  they  might 
wish  for  them, — this  objective  success  of  the  good,  this  concrete 
improvement  of  life  cannot  possibly  be  ascribed  to  the  progress  of 
personal  morality. 

The  moral  nature  of  man  is  unchangeable  in  its  inner 
subjective  foundations.  The  relative  number  of  good  and  bad 
men  also,  probably,  remains  unchanged.  It  would  hardly  be 
argued  by  any  one  that  there  are  now  more  righteous  men  than 
there  were  some  hundreds  or  thousands  of  years  ago.  Finally, 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  highest  moral  ideas  and  ideals, 
taken  in  the  abstract,  do  not  as  such  produce  any  stable  improve- 
ment in  life  and  in  moral  consciousness.  I have  referred  to  an 
indisputable  and  certain  fact  of  history  : the  same  and  even  worse 
atrocities  which  were  committed  by  a virtuous  pagan  of  the 
Homeric  poem  with  the  approval  of  the  community  were  done 
thousands  of  years  after  him  by  the  champions  of  Christian  faith 
— the  Spanish  inquisitors,  and  by  Christian  slave-owners,  also 
with  the  approval  of  the  community,  and  this  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  a higher  ideal  of  individual  morality  has  meanwhile  been 
evolved.  In  our  day  such  actions  are  only  possible  for  lunatics 
and  professional  criminals.  And  this  sudden  progress  is  solely  due 
to  the  fact  that  the  organised  social  force  was  inspired  by  moral 
demands  and  transformed  them  into  an  objective  law  of  life. 


S 


258  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


IV 

The  principle  of  the  perfect  good  revealed  in  Christianity  does 
not  abolish  the  external  structure  of  human  society,  but  uses  it  as 
a form  and  an  instrument  for  the  embodiment  of  its  own  absolute 
moral  content.  It  demands  that  human  society  should  become 
morally  organised.  Experience  unmistakably  proves  that  when 
the  social  environment  is  not  morally  organised,  the  subjective 
demands  of  the  good  in  oneself  and  in  others  are  inevitably  lowered. 
It  is  not,  then,  really  a choice  between  personal  or  subjective 
and  social  morality,  but  between  weak  and  strong,  realised  and 
unrealised  morality.  At  every  stage  the  moral  consciousness  in- 
evitably strives  to  realise  itself  both  in  the  individual  and  in  the 
society.  The  final  stage  differs  from  the  lower  stages,  not,  of 
course,  by  the  fact  that  morality  at  its  highest  remains  for  ever 
subjective,  i.e.  powerless  and  unrealised — this,  indeed,  would  be  a 
strange  advantage! — but  by  the  fact  that  the  realisation  must  be 
full  and  all-embracing , and  therefore  requires  a far  more  difficult, 
long,  and  complex  process  than  was  necessary  in  the  case  of  the 
former  collective  embodiments  of  morality.  In  the  patriarchal  life 
the  degree  of  the  good  of  which  it  is  capable  becomes  realised 
freely  and  easily — without  any  history.  The  formation  of  exten- 
sive nationally  political  groups,  which  is  to  realise  a greater  sum 
and  a higher  grade  of  the  good,  fills  many  centuries  with  its 
history.  The  moral  task  left  us  by  Christianity — to  form  the 
environment  for  the  actual  realisation  of  absolute  and  universal 
good — is  infinitely  more  complex.  The  positive  conception  of 
this  good  embraces  the  totality  of  human  relations.  Humanity 
morally  regenerated  cannot  be  poorer  in  content  than  natural 
humanity.  The  task  then  consists  not  in  abolishing  the 
already  existing  social  distinctions,  but  in  bringing  them  into 
right,  good,  or  moral  relation  with  one  another.  When  the 
higher  animal  forms  came  to  be  evolved  in  the  course  of  the 
cosmical  process,  the  lower  form — that  of  worm — was  not  ex- 
cluded as  intrinsically  unworthy,  but  received  a new  and  more 
fitting  position.  It  ceased  to  be  the  sole  and  obvious  foundation 
of  life,  but  decently  clothed  it  still  exists  within  the  body  in  the 
form  of  the  alimentary  canal — a subservient  part  of  the  organism. 


ABSTRACT  SUBJECTIVISM  IN  MORALITY  259 

Other  forms,  predominant  at  the  lower  stages,  were  also  preserved, 
both  materially  and  formally,  as  subordinate  constituent  parts  and 
organs  of  a higher  whole.  In  a similar  way,  Christian  humanity 
— the  highest  form  of  collective  spiritual  life — finds  realisation 
not  by  destroying  the  different  forms  of  the  social  life  evolved  in 
the  course  of  history,  but  by  bringing  them  into  due  relation  to 
itself  and  to  each  other,  in  harmony  with  the  unconditional  prin- 
ciple of  morality. 

The  demand  for  such  harmony  deprives  moral  subjectivism, 
based  on  the  wrongly  conceived  view  of  the  autonomy  of  the  will, 
of  all  justification.  The  moral  will  must  be  determined  to  action 
solely  through  itself ; any  subordination  of  it  to  an  external  rule 
or  command  violates  its  autonomy  and  must  therefore  be  recog- 
nised as  unworthy — this  is  the  true  principle  of  moral  autonomy. 
But  the  organisation  of  social  environment  in  accordance  with 
the  principle  of  the  absolute  good  is  not  a limitation  but  a fulfilment 
of  the  personal  moral  will — it  is  the  very  thing  which  it  desires. 
As  a moral  being  I want  the  good  to  reign  upon  earth,  I know 
that  alone  I cannot  bring  this  to  pass,  and  I find  a collective 
organisation  intended  for  this  purpose  of  mine.  It  is  clear  that 
such  an  organisation  does  not  in  any  sense  limit  me  but,  on  the 
contrary,  removes  my  individual  limitations,  widens  and  strengthens 
my  moral  will.  Every  one,  in  so  far  as  his  will  is  moral,  inwardly 
participates  in  this  universal  organisation  of  morality,  and  it  is 
clear  that  relative  external  limitations,  which  may  follow  therefrom 
for  the  individual  persons,  are  sanctioned  by  their  own  higher 
consciousness  and  consequently  cannot  be  opposed  to  moral  freedom. 
For  the  moral  individual  one  thing  only  is  important  in  this  con- 
nection, namely,  that  the  collective  organisation  should  be  really 
dominated  by  the  unconditional  principle  of  morality , that  the  social 
life  should  indeed  conform  to  moral  standards — to  the  demands  of 
justice  and  mercy  in  all  human  affairs  and  relations — that  the 
individually-social  environment  should  really  become  the  organised 
good.  It  is  clear  that  in  subordinating  himself  to  a social  environ- 
ment which  is  itself  subordinate  to  the  principle  of  the  absolute  good 
and  conformable  to  it,  the  individual  cannot  lose  anything.  Such 
a social  environment  is  from  the  nature  of  the  case  incompatible 
with  any  arbitrary  limitation  of  personal  rights  and  still  less  with 
rude  violence  or  persecution.  The  degree  of  subordination  of  the 


26o  the  justification  of  the  good 


individual  to  society  must  correspond  to  the  degree  of  subordination 
of  society  to  the  moral  good , apart  from  which  social  environment 
has  no  claim  whatever  upon  the  individual.  Its  rights  arise 
simply  from  the  moral  satisfaction  which  it  gives  to  every  person. 
This  aspect  of  moral  universalism  will  be  further  developed  and 
explained  in  the  next  chapter. 

As  to  the  autonomy  of  the  bad  will , no  organisation  of  the 
good  can  prevent  conscious  evil-doers  from  desiring  evil  for  its 
own  sake  and  from  acting  in  that  direction.  The  organisation  of 
the  good  is  concerned  merely  with  external  limitations  of  the 
evil  reality — limitations  that  inevitably  follow  from  the  nature 
of  man  and  the  meaning  of  history.  These  objective  limits  to 
objective  evil,  necessarily  presupposed  by  the  organisation  of 
the  good  but  not  by  any  means  exhaustive  of  it,  will  be  dis- 
cussed later  on  in  the  chapters  on  punishment  and  on  the  relation 
between  legal  justice  and  morality. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  MORAL  NORM  OF  SOCIAL  LIFE 

I 

The  true  definition  of  society  as  an  organised,  morality  disposes  of 
the  two  false  theories  that  are  fashionable  in  our  day — the  view  of 
moral  subjectivism  which  prevents  the  moral  will  from  being  con- 
cretely realised  in  the  life  of  the  community,  and  the  theory  of 
social  realism , according  to  which  given  social  institutions  and  in- 
terests are  of  supreme  significance  in  and  for  themselves,  so  that 
the  highest  moral  principles  prove  at  best  to  be  simply  the  means  or 
the  instrument  for  safeguarding  those  interests.  From  this  point 
of  view,  at  present  extremely  prevalent,  this  or  that  concrete  form 
of  social  life  is  essential  per  se , although  attempts  are  made  to  give 
it  a moral  justification  by  connecting  it  with  moral  norms  and 
principles.  But  the  very  fact  of  seeking  a moral  basis  for  human 
society  proves  that  neither  any  concrete  form  of  social  life  nor 
social  life  as  such  is  the  highest  or  the  final  expression  of  human 
nature.  If  man  were  defined  as  essentially  a social  animal  (£coov 
ttoXitikov)  and  nothing  more , the  intension  of  the  term  c man  ’ would 
be  very  much  narrowed  and  its  extension  would  be  considerably 
increased.  Humanity  would  then  include  animals  such  as  ants,  of 
whom  social  life  is  as  essential  a characteristic  as  it  is  of  man. 
Sir  John  Lubbock,  the  greatest  authority  on  the  subject,  writes  : 
“ Their  nests  are  no  mere  collections  of  independent  individuals, 
nor  even  temporary  associations  like  the  flocks  of  migratory  birds, 
but  organised  communities  labouring  with  the  utmost  harmony 
for  the  common  good.”1  These  communities  sometimes  contain 
a population  so  numerous  that,  in  the  words  of  the  same  naturalist, 

1 Ants , Bees , and  Wasps,  by  Sir  John  Lubbock,  7th  ed.,  p.  119. 

261 


262  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


of  human  cities  London  and  Pekin  can  alone  be  compared  to 
them.1  Far  more  important  are  the  three  following  inner 
characteristics  of  the  ants’  community.  They  have  a complex 
social  organisation.  There  is  a distinct  difference  between  differ- 
ent communities  in  the  degree  of  that  organisation — a difference 
completely  analogous  to  the  gradual  development  in  the  forms  of 
human  culture  from  the  hunting  to  the  agricultural  stage.  It 
proves  that  the  social  life  of  ants  did  not  arise  in  any  accidental 
or  exceptional  fashion  but  developed  according  to  certain  general 
sociological  laws.  Finally,  the  social  tie  is  remarkably  strong  and 
stable,  and  there  is  wonderful  practical  solidarity  between  the 
members  of  the  ants’  community,  so  far  as  the  common  good  is 
concerned. 

With  regard  to  the  first  point,  if  division  of  labour  be  the 
characteristic  feature  of  civilised  life,  it  is  impossible  to  deny 
civilisation  to  ants.  Division  of  labour  is  in  their  case  carried 
out  very  sharply.  They  have  very  brave  soldiers  armed  with 
enormously  developed  pincer-like  jaws  by  which  they  adroitly 
seize  and  snap  off  the  heads  of  their  enemies,  but  who  are  in- 
capable of  doing  anything  else.  They  have  workmen  remarkable 
for  their  skill  and  industry.  They  have  gentlemen  with  opposite 
characteristics  who  go  so  far  that  they  can  neither  feed  them- 
selves nor  move  about  and  only  know  how  to  use  other  ants’ 
services.  Finally,  they  have  slaves  (not  to  be  confused  with 
workmen2)  who  are  obtained  by  conquest  and  belong  to  other 
species  of  ants,  which  fact  does  not,  however,  prevent  them  from 
being  completely  devoted  to  their  masters.  Apart  from  such 
division  of  labour,  the  high  degree  of  civilisation  possessed  by  ants 
is  proved  by  their  keeping  a number  of  domestic  animals  [i.e. 
tamed  insects  belonging  to  other  zoological  groups),  “So  that  we 
may  truly  say,”  Sir  John  Lubbock  remarks,  of  course  with  some 
exaggeration,  “ that  our  English  ants  possess  a much  greater  variety 
of  domestic  animals  than  we  do  ourselves.”3 

Some  of  these  domestic  insects  carefully  brought  up  by  ants 
serve  for  food  (in  particular  the  plant-lice  aphidae , which  Linnaeus 

1 Ants,  Bees,  and  Wasps,  by  Sir  John  Lubbock,  7th  ed.,  p.  119. 

2 Working  ants  (like  working  bees)  do  not  form  a distinct  species  ; they  are  de- 
scended from  the  common  queen  but  are  sexually  under-developed. 

3 Ibid.  p.  73. 


THE  MORAL  NORM  OF  SOCIAL  LIFE  263 


calls  ants’  cows  ( Aphis  fortnicarum  vacca) ; others  perform  certain 
necessary  work  in  the  community,  e.g.  act  as  dustmen  ; the  third, 
in  Lubbock’s  opinion,  are  kept  simply  for  amusement  like  our 
pug-dogs  or  canaries.  The  entomologist  Andre  has  made  a list 
of  584  species  of  insects  which  are  usually  found  in  ants’  com- 
munities. 

At  the  present  time  many  large  and  well-populated  communities 
of  ants  live  chiefly  on  the  large  stores  of  vegetable  products  they 
collect.  Crowds  of  working  ants  skilfully  and  systematically  cut 
blades  of  grass  and  stems  of  leaves — reap  them,  as  it  were.  But 
this  semblance  of  agriculture  is  neither  their  only  nor  their  original 
means  of  subsistence.  “We  find,”  writes  Lubbock,  “in  the 
different  species  of  ants  different  conditions  of  life,  curiously 
answering  to  the  earlier  stages  of  human  progress.  For  instance, 
some  species,  such  as  Formica  fusca , live  principally  on  the  produce 
of  the  chase  ; for  though  they  feed  partly  on  the  honey-dew  of 
aphides,  they  have  not  domesticated  those  insects.  These  ants 
probably  retain  the  habits  once  common  to  all  ants.  They  resemble 
the  lower  races  of  men,  who  subsist  mainly  by  hunting.  Like 
them  they  frequent  woods  and  wilds,  live  in  comparatively  small 
communities,  and  the  instincts  of  collective  action  are  but  little 
developed  among  them.  They  hunt  singly,  and  their  battles  are 
single  combats,  like  those  of  the  Homeric  heroes.  Such  species 
as  Lassius  flavus  represent  a distinctly  higher  type  of  social  life  ; 
they  show  more  skill  in  architecture,  may  literally  be  said  to  have 
domesticated  certain  species  of  aphides,  and  may  be  compared  to 
the  pastoral  stage  of  human  progress,  to  the  races  which  live  on  the 
produce  of  their  flocks  and  herds.  Their  communities  are  more 
numerous  ; they  act  much  more  in  concert  ; their  battles  are  not 
mere  single  combats,  but  they  know  how  to  act  in  combination. 
I am  disposed  to  hazard  the  conjecture  that  they  will  gradually 
exterminate  the  mere  hunting  species,  just  as  savages  disappear 
before  more  advanced  races.  Lastly,  the  agricultural  nations  may 
be  compared  with  the  harvesting  ants.  Thus  there  seem  to  be 
three  principal  types,  offering  a curious  analogy  to  the  three  great 
phases — the  hunting,  pastoral,  and  agricultural  stages  in  the  history 
of  human  development.”  1 

In  addition  to  the  complexity  of  social  structure  and  the 

1 P.  91. 


264  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

graduated  stages  in  the  development  of  culture,  ants’  societies  are 
also  noted,  as  has  been  said  above,  for  the  remarkable  stability  of 
the  social  tie.  Our  author  continually  remarks  on  ‘the  greatest 
harmony  that  reigns  between  members  of  one  and  the  same  com- 
munity.’ This  harmony  is  exclusively  conditioned  by  the  common 
good.  On  the  ground  of  many  observations  and  experiments,  Sir 
John  Lubbock  proves  that  whenever  an  individual  ant  undertakes 
something  useful  for  the  community  and  exceeding  its  own  powers, 
e.g.  attempts  to  bring  to  the  ant-heap  a dead  fly  or  beetle  it  has 
come  across,  it  always  calls  and  finds  comrades  to  help  it.  When, 
on  the  contrary,  an  individual  ant  gets  into  trouble  which  concerns 
it  alone,  this  does  not  as  a rule  excite  any  sympathy  whatever  and 
no  help  is  rendered  to  it.  The  patient  scientist  had  a number  of 
times  brought  separate  ants  into  a state  of  insensibility  by  chloroform 
or  spirits  and  found  that  their  fellow-citizens  either  did  not  take  the 
slightest  notice  of  the  unfortunate  ones  or  threw  them  out  as  dead. 
Tender  sympathy  with  personal  grief  is  not  connected  with  any 
social  function  and  therefore  does  not  form  part  of  the  idea  of  social 
life  as  such.  But  the  feeling  of  civic  duty  or  the  devotion  to 
general  order  are  so  great  among  ants  that  they  never  have  any 
quarrels  or  civil  wars.  Their  armies  are  intended  solely  for  outside 
wars.  And  even  in  the  highly  developed  communities,  which  have 
a special  class  of  dustmen  and  a breed  of  domestic  clowns,  not  a 
single  observer  could  discover  any  trace  of  organised  police  or 
gendarmerie. 


II 

Social  life  is  at  least  as  essential  a characteristic  of  these  insects 
as  it  is  of  man.  If,  however,  we  do  not  admit  that  they  are  equal 
to  ourselves — if  we  do  not  agree  to  bestow  upon  each  of  the  in- 
numerable ants  living  in  our  forests  the  rights  of  man  and  of 
citizen,  it  means  that  man  has  another  and  a more  essential 
characteristic,  one  that  is  independent  of  social  instincts  and,  on 
the  contrary,  conditions  the  distinctive  character  of  human  society. 
This  characteristic  consists  in  the  fact  that  each  man,  as  such,  is 
a moral  being — i.e.  a being  who,  apart  from  his  social  utility,  has 
absolute  worth  and  absolute  right  to  live  and  freely  develop  his 
positive  powers.  It  directly  follows  from  this  that  no  man  under 


THE  MORAL  NORM  OF  SOCIAL  LIFE  265 


any  conditions  and  not  for  any  reason  may  be  regarded  as  only  a means 
for  purposes  extraneous  to  himself.  We  cannot  be  merely  an 
instrument  either  for  the  good  of  another  person  or  for  the  good  of  a 
whole  class  or  even  for  the  so-called  common  good , i.e.  the  good  of 
the  majority  of  men.  This  c common  good  ’ or  ‘ general  utility  ’ 
has  a claim  not  upon  man  as  a person,  but  upon  his  activity  or 
work  to  the  extent  to  which  that  work,  being  useful  for  the  com- 
munity, secures  at  the  same  time  a worthy  existence  to  the  worker. 
The  right  of  the  person  as  such  is  based  upon  his  human  dignity 
inherent  in  him  and  inalienable,  upon  the  formal  infinity  of  reason 
in  every  human  being,  upon  the  fact  that  each  person  is  unique  and 
individual,  and  must  therefore  be  an  end  in  himself  and  not  merely 
a means  or  an  instrument.  This  right  of  the  person  is  from  its 
very  nature  unconditional. , while  the  rights  of  the  community  with 
regard  to  the  person  are  conditioned  by  the  recognition  of  his  in- 
dividual rights.  Society,  therefore,  can  compel  a person  to  do 
something  only  through  an  act  of  his  own  will, — otherwise  it  will 
not  be  a case  of  laying  an  obligation  upon  a person,  but  of  making 
use  of  a thing.  This  does  not  mean,  of  course  (as  one  of  my 
critics  imagined),  that  in  order  to  pass  a legal  or  administrative 
measure,  the  central  power  must  ask  the  individual  consent  of  each 
person.  The  moral  principle  in  its  application  to  politics  logically 
involves  not  an  absurd  liberum  veto  of  this  kind,  but  the  right  of 
each  responsible  person  freely  to  change  his  allegiance  as  well  as 
his  religion.  In  other  words,  no  social  group  or  institution  has  a 
right  forcibly  to  detain  any  one  among  its  members. 

The  human  dignity  of  each  person  or  his  nature  as  a moral 
being  does  not  in  any  way  depend  upon  his  particular  qualities  or 
his  social  utility.  Such  qualities  and  utility  may  determine  man’s 
external  position  in  society  and  the  relative  value  set  upon  him  by 
other  people  ; they  do  not  determine  his  own  worth  and  his  human 
rights.  Many  animals  are  by  nature  far  more  virtuous  than  many 
human  beings.  The  conjugal  virtue  of  pigeons  and  storks,  the 
maternal  love  of  hens,  the  gentleness  of  deer,  the  faithfulness  and 
devotion  of  dogs,  the  good  nature  of  seals  and  dolphins,  the  industry 
and  civic  virtues  of  ants  and  bees,  etc.,  are  characteristic  qualities 
adorning  our  younger  brothers,  while  they  are  by  no  means  pre- 
dominant in  the  majority  of  human  beings.  WLy  is  it  then  that 
it  has  never  occurred  to  any  one  to  deprive  the  most  worthless  of 


266  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


men  of  his  human  rights  in  order  to  pass  them  to  the  most  excellent 
of  animals  as  a reward  for  its  virtue  ? As  to  utility,  not  only  one 
strong  horse  is  more  useful  than  a number  of  sick  beggars,  but 
even  inanimate  objects,  such  as  the  printing-press  or  the  steam- 
boiler,  have  undoubtedly  been  of  far  more  use  to  the  historical 
process  as  a whole  than  entire  tribes  of  savages  or  barbarians. 
And  yet  if  [per  impossibile)  Gutenberg  and  Watt  had,  for  the  sake 
of  their  great  inventions,  intentionally  and  consciously  to  sacrifice 
the  life  even  of  a single  savage  or  barbarian,  the  usefulness  of  their 
work  would  not  prevent  their  action  from  being  decidedly  con- 
demned as  immoral — unless  indeed  the  view  be  taken  that  the 
purpose  justifies  the  means. 

If  the  common  good  or  the  general  happiness  is  to  have  the 
significance  of  a moral  principle,  they  must  be  in  the  full  sense 
general,  i.e.  they  must  refer  not  merely  to  many  or  to  the 
majority  of  men  but  to  all  without  exception.  That  which  is 
truly  the  good  of  all  is  for  that  very  reason  the  good  of  each — 
no  one  is  excluded  and,  therefore,  in  serving  such  a social  good  as 
an  end,  the  individual  does  not  thereby  become  merely  a means 
or  an  instrument  of  something  extraneous  and  foreign  to  himself. 
True  society  which  recognises  the  absolute  right  of  each  person 
is  not  the  negative  limit  but  the  positive  complement  of  the 
individual.  In  serving  it  with  whole-hearted  devotion,  the  in- 
dividual does  not  lose  but  realises  his  absolute  worth  and  signifi- 
cance. For  when  taken  in  isolation  he  is  only  potentially  absolute 
and  infinite,  and  becomes  so  actually  only  by  being  inwardly 
united  to  all.1 

The  only  moral  norm  is  the  principle  of  human  dignity  or  of  the 
absolute  worth  of  each  individual , in  virtue  of  which  society  is 
determined  as  the  inward  and  free  harmony  of  all.2  It  is  just  as  im- 
possible that  there  should  be  many  moral  norms  in  the  strict  sense 
of  the  term,  as  it  is  impossible  that  there  should  be  many  supreme 
goods  or  many  moralities.  It  is  not  difficult  to  show  that  religion 
(as  concretely  given  in  history),  family,  and  property  do  not  as 
such  contain  a moral  norm  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  term.  A 

1 See  above,  Part  III.,  Chapter  I.,  ‘ The  Individual  and  Society.’ 

2 This  position  is  logically  established  in  moral  philosophy  in  its  elementary  part, 
which,  thanks  to  Kant,  became  as  strictly  scientific  in  its  own  sphere  as  pure  mechanics 
is  in  another. 


THE  MORAL  NORM  OF  SOCIAL  LIFE  267 

thing  which,  taken  by  itself,  may  or  may  not  be  moral,  must 
obviously  be  determined  as  one  or  the  other  by  means  of  something 
else.  It  cannot,  therefore,  be  a moral  norm  on  its  own  account 
— that  is,  it  cannot  give  to  other  things  a character  which 
it  itself  does  not  possess.  Now  there  is  no  doubt  that  religion 
may  or  may  not  be  moral.  Such  religions  as,  for  instance,  the  cult 
of  Moloch  or  Astarte  (the  survivals  or  analogies  of  which  are  to 
be  met  now  and  then  to  this  day),  cannot  possibly  serve  as  a moral 
norm  of  anything,  since  their  very  essence  is  directly  opposed  to 
all  morality.  When,  therefore,  we  are  told  that  religion  is  the 
norm  and  the  moral  foundation  of  society,  we  must  first  see 
whether  religion  itself  has  a moral  character  and  agrees  with  the 
principle  of  morality  ; and  this  means  that  the  ultimate  criterion 
is  that  principle  and  not  religion  as  such.  The  only  reason  why 
we  regard  Christianity  as  the  true  foundation  and  norm  of  all  that 
is  good  in  the  world  is  that,  being  a perfect  religion,  Christianity 
contains  the  unconditional  moral  principle  in  itself.  But  if  a 
separation  be  introduced  between  the  demand  for  moral  perfection 
and  the  actual  life  of  Christian  society,  Christianity  at  once  loses 
its  absolute  significance  and  becomes  historically  accidental. 

If  now  we  take  the  family,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  family 
too  may  or  may  not  be  moral,  both  in  individual  cases  and  in  the 
whole  given  structure  of  society.  Thus  the  family  of  ancient 
Greece  had  no  moral  character.  I refer  not  to  the  exceptional 
heroic  families  in  which  wives  murdered  their  husbands  and  were 
killed  by  their  sons,  or  sons  killed  their  fathers  and  married  their 
mothers,  but  to  the  usual  normal  family  of  a cultured  Athenian, 
which  required  as  its  necessary  complement  the  institution  of 
hetaeras  and  worse  things  than  that.  The  Arabic  family  (before 
Islam),  in  which  new-born  girl  babies,  if  there  were  more  than 
one  or  two  of  them,  were  buried  alive,  had  no  moral  character 
either,  though  it  was  stable  in  its  way.  The  very  stable  family 
of  the  Romans  in  which  the  head  of  the  house  had  the  right  of 
life  and  death  over  his  wife  and  children,  also  cannot  be  said  to 
have  been  moral.  Thus  the  family,  like  religion,  has  no  intrinsic- 
ally moral  character,  and,  before  it  can  become  the  norm  for  any- 
thing else,  must  itself  be  put  upon  a moral  basis. 

As  to  property,  to  recognise  it  as  the  moral  foundation  of 
normal  society,  i.e.  as  something  sacred  and  inviolable,  is  neither 


268  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

logically  nor,  in  my  own  case  (and  I think  in  that  of  my  con- 
temporaries), psychologically  possible.  The  first  awakening  of 
conscious  life  and  thought  in  our  generation  was  accompanied  by 
the  thunder  of  the  destruction  of  property  in  its  two  fundamental 
historical  forms  of  serfdom  and  slavery.  And  this  abolition  of 
property,  both  in  America  and  in  Russia,  was  demanded  and  ac- 
complished in  the  name  of  social  morality.  The  alleged  inviolability 
was  brilliantly  disproved  by  the  fact  of  so  successful  a violation, 
approved  by  the  conscience  of  all.  It  is  obvious  that  property  is 
a thing  which  stands  in  need  of  justification,  and  so  far  from  con- 
taining a moral  norm,  demands  such  a norm  for  itself 

All  historical  institutions — whether  religious  or  social — are  of 
a mixed  character.  But  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  moral  norm 
can  only  be  found  in  a pure  principle,  and  not  in  a mixed  fact. 
A principle  which  unconditionally  affirms  that  which  ought  to  be 
is  something  essentially  inviolable.  It  may  be  rejected  and 
disobeyed,  but  this  is  detrimental  not  to  the  principle  but  to  the 
person  who  rejects  and  disobeys  it.  The  law  which  proclaims 
‘ you  ought  to  respect  the  human  dignity  of  each  person,  you  ought 
to  make  no  one  a means  or  an  instrument,’  does  not  depend  upon 
any  fact,  does  not  affirm  any  fact,  and  therefore  cannot  be  affected 
by  any  fact. 

The  principle  of  the  absolute  worth  of  human  personality 
does  not  depend  upon  any  one  or  anything  ; but  the  moral  char- 
acter of  societies  and  institutions  depends  entirely  upon  it.  We 
know  in  ancient  and  modern  heathendom  of  highly  civilised  great 
national  bodies  in  which  the  institutions  of  family,  of  religion,  of 
property  were  extremely  stable,  but  which  nevertheless  were 
devoid  of  the  moral  character  of  a human  society.  At  best  they 
resembled  communities  of  wise  insects  in  which  the  mechanism 
of  the  good  order  is  present,  but  that  which  the  mechanism  is 
to  subserve — the  good  itself — is  absent,  for  the  bearer  of  it,  the 
free  personality,  is  not  there. 


Ill 

A vague  and  distorted  consciousness  of  the  essence  of  morality 
and  of  the  true  norm  of  human  society  exists  even  where  the 
moral  principle  has  apparently  no  application.  Thus,  in  the 


THE  MORAL  NORM  OF  SOCIAL  LIFE  269 

despotic  monarchies  of  the  East,  the  real  man  or  person  was 
rightly  regarded  as  possessed  of  full  rights,  but  such  dignity  was 
ascribed  to  one  man  only.  Thus  transformed,  however,  into  an 
exclusive  and  externally  determined  privilege,  human  right  and 
worth  loses  its  moral  character.  The  sole  bearer  of  it  ceases 
to  be  a person,  and  since  as  a concrete  real  being  it  cannot 
become  a pure  ideal,  it  becomes  an  idol.  The  moral  principle 
demands  of  the  individual  that  he  should  respect  human  dignity 
as  such — that  is,  should  respect  it  in  other  people  as  in  himself. 
It  is  only  in  treating  others  as  persons  that  the  individual  is 
himself  determined  as  a person.  The  Eastern  despot,  however, 
finds  in  his  world  no  persons  possessed  of  rights,  but  only  rightless 
things.  And  since  it  is  thus  impossible  for  him  to  have  personal 
moral  relations  to  any  one,  he  inevitably  himself  loses  his  personal 
moral  character,  and  becomes  a thing — the  most  important, 
sacred,  divine,  worshipped  thing — in  short,  a fetish  or  an  idol. 

In  the  civic  communities  of  the  classical  world  the  fulness  of 
rights  was  the  privilege  not  of  one  man  but  of  a few  (in  the 
aristocracies)  or  of  many  (in  the  democracies).  This  extension 
was  very  important  for  it  rendered  possible,  though  within  narrow 
limits  only,  independent  moral  interaction  of  individuals,  and 
consequently  personal  self-consciousness,  and  realised,  at  any  rate 
for  the  given  social  union,  the  idea  of  justice  or  equality  of  rights.1 
But  the  moral  principle  is  in  its  essence  universal,  since  it 
demands  the  recognition  of  the  absolute  inner  worth  of  man  as 
such,  without  any  external  limitations.  The  communities  of  the 
ancients,  however, — the  aristocracy  of  Sparta,  the  Athenian 
demos,  and  the  peculiar  combination  of  the  two — senatus  populusque 
Romanus — recognised  the  true  dignity  of  man  only  within  the 
limits  of  their  civic  union.  They  were  not  therefore  societies 
based  upon  the  moral  principle,  but  at  best  approached  and 
anticipated  such  a society. 

This  structure  of  lire  has  more  than  merely  a historical 
interest  for  us  : in  truth,  we  have  not  outlived  it  yet.  Consider, 
indeed,  what  it  was  that  limited  the  moral  principle  and  prevented 

1 In  the  despotic  monarchies  of  the  East  there  could  be  no  question  of  any  equality 
of  rights- — there  was  only  the  negative  equality  of  general  rightlessness.  But  equal 
distribution  of  an  injustice  does  not  render  it  just.  The  idea  of  equality  taken  in  the 
abstract  is  mathematical  only,  not  ethical. 


270  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

its  realisation  in  the  world  of  antiquity.  There  were  three 
classes  of  men  who  were  not  recognised  as  bearers  of  any  rights  or 
as  objects  of  any  duties.  They  were  therefore  in  no  sense  an  end 
of  action,  were  not  included  in  the  idea  of  the  common  good  at  all, 
and  were  regarded  merely  as  material  Instruments  of,  or  material 
obstacles  to,  that  good.  Namely,  these  were  (i)  enemies , i.e. 
originally  all  strangers,1  then  (2)  slaves , and,  finally,  (3)  criminals. 
In  spite  of  individual  differences  the  legalised  relation  to  these 
three  categories  of  men  was  essentially  the  same,  for  it  was 
equally  immoral.  There  is  no  need  to  represent  the  institution 
of  slavery,  which  replaced  the  simple  slaughter  of  the  prisoners  of 
war,  in  an  exaggeratedly  horrible  form.  Slaves  had  means  of 
livelihood  secured  to  them,  and  on  the  whole  were  not  badly 
treated.  This,  however,  was  an  accident — though  one  of  frequent 
occurrence — and  not  a duty,  and,  therefore,  had  no  moral  signi- 
ficance. Slaves  were  valued  for  their  utility,  but  this  had  nothing 
to  do  with  the  recognition  of  their  worth  as  human  beings.  In 
contradistinction  to  these  useful  things,  which  ought  to  be  looked 
after  for  reasons  of  expediency,  external  and  internal  enemies,  as 
things  unquestionably  harmful , were  to  be  mercilessly  extermin- 
ated. With  regard,  however,  to  the  enemy  in  war,  mercilessness 
might  be  tempered  by  the  respect  for  his  force  or  the  fear  of 
revenge  ; but  with  regard  to  defenceless  criminals,  real  or 
supposed,  cruelty  knew  no  limits.  In  cultured  Athens,  persons 
accused  of  ordinary  crimes  were  tortured  as  soon  as  they  were 
taken  into  custody,  previously  to  any  trial. 

All  these  facts — war,  slavery,  executions — were  legitimate  for 
the  ancient  world,  in  the  sense  that  they  logically  followed  from 

1 Hospitality  to  peaceful  strangers  is  a fact  of  very  ancient  date,  but  can  hardly  be 
said  to  be  primitive.  In  Greece  its  founder  was  supposed  to  be  Zeus — the  repre- 
sentative of  the  third  generation  of  gods  (after  Chronos  and  Uranus).  Before  being  a 
guest  in  the  sense  of  simply  a friendly  visitor,  the  stranger  was  a ‘ guest  ’ in  the  sense  of 
‘ merchant,’  and  earlier  still  he  was  only  regarded  in  the  sense  of  the  Latin  kostis 
(enemy).  In  times  still  more  ancient,  accounts  of  which  have  been  handed  down  in 
classical  tradition,  a good  guest  was  met  with  still  greater  joy  than  in  the  later, 
hospitable  times,  but  only  as  a savoury  dish  at  the  family  feast.  Apart  from  such 
extremes,  the  prevalent  attitude  to  strangers  in  primitive  society  was  no  doubt 
similar  to  that  observed  by  Sir  John  Lubbock  among  ants.  When  a stranger  ant 
belonging  to  a different  community,  though  one  of  the  same  species,  came  to  an 
ant  heap,  ants  would  drag  it  about  for  a while  by  its  antennae  till  it  was  half-dead,  and 
then  either  finish  it  off  or  drive  it  away. 


THE  MORAL  NORM  OF  SOCIAL  LIFE  271 

the  view  held  by  every  one,  and  were  conditioned  by  the  general 
level  of  consciousness.  If  the  worth  of  man  as  an  independent 
individual  and  the  fulness  of  his  rights  and  dignity  depend 
exclusively  upon  his  belonging  to  a certain  civic  union,  the 
natural  consequence  is  that  men  who  do  not  belong  to  that  union 
and  are  strange  and  hostile  to  it,  or  men  who,  though  they  belong 
to  it,  violate  its  laws  and  are  a menace  to  common  safety,  are  by 
that  very  fact  deprived  of  human  rights  and  dignity,  and  that 
with  regard  to  them  all  things  are  lawful. 

This  point  of  view,  however,  came  to  be  changed.  The 
development  of  ethical  thought  first  among  the  Sophists  and  in 
Socrates,  then  among  the  Greco-Roman  Stoics,  the  work  of  Roman 
lawyers  and  the  very  character  of  the  Roman  Empire,  which 
embraced  many  peoples  and  nations,  and  therefore  inevitably 
widened  the  theoretical  and  practical  outlook, — all  this  has 
gradually  effaced  the  old  limits  and  established  a consciousness  of 
the  moral  principle  in  its  formal  universality  and  infinity.  At  the 
same  time,  in  the  East  the  religiously  moral  teaching  of  the  Jewish 
prophets  was  evolving  a living  ideal  of  absolute  human  dignity. 
And  while  a Roman  in  the  theatre  of  the  eternal  city  proclaimed, 
by  the  mouth  of  the  actor,  the  new  word  ‘ homo  sum  ’ as  the 
expression  of  the  highest  personal  dignity,  instead  of  the  old 
‘ civis  Romanus ,’  another  Roman  in  a remote  Eastern  province 
and  at  a scene  more  tragic  completed  the  statement  of  this  new 
principle  by  simply  pointing  to  the  actual  personal  incarnation  of 
it:  Eccehomo! 

The  inner  change  which  took  place  in  humanity  as  the  result 
of  the  interaction  of  the  events  in  Palestine  and  the  Greco- 
Roman  theories  ought,  it  would  seem,  to  have  been  the  beginning 
of  an  entirely  new  order  of  things.  Indeed,  a complete  regenera- 
tion of  the  physical  world  was  expected  ; and  yet  the  social  and 
moral  world  of  heathendom  still  stands  essentially  unchanged. 
This  will  not  be  an  object  for  grief  and  wonder  if  the  problem  of 
the  moral  regeneration  of  humanity  is  considered  in  its  full 
scope.  It  is  clear  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  and  is  foretold  in 
the  Gospels,1  that  this  problem  can  only  be  solved  by  a gradual 
process  before  the  final  catastrophe  comes.  The  process  of  such 
preparation  is  not  yet  completed,  but  is  being  carried  on,  and 

1 In  the  parables  of  the  leaven,  of  wheat  and  tares,  of  the  mustard  seed,  etc. 


272  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


there  is  no  doubt  that  from  the  fifteenth  and  especially  from 
the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century  there  has  been  a noticeable 
change  in  the  rate  of  the  historical  progress.  It  is  important 
from  the  practically  moral  point  of  view  to  make  clear  to  ourselves 
what  has  been  done  already  and  what  still  remains  to  be  done  in 
certain  definite  directions. 

IV 

When  men  of  different  nationality  and  social  position  were 
spiritually  united  in  worshipping  a foreigner  and  a beggar — the 
Galilean  who  was  executed  as  a criminal  in  the  name  of  national 
and  class  interests — international  wars,  rightlessness  of  the  masses, 
and  executions  of  criminals  were  inwardly  undermined.  Granted 
that  the  inner  change  took  eighteen  centuries  to  manifest  itself 
even  to  a small  extent  ; granted  that  its  manifestation  is  becoming 
noticeable  just  at  the  time  when  its  first  mover — the  Christian 
faith — is  weakened,  and  seems  to  disappear  from  the  surface  of 
consciousness — still,  man’s  inner  attitude  towards  the  old  heathen 
foundations  of  society  is  changing,  and  the  change  shows  itself 
more  and  more  in  his  life.  Whatever  the  thoughts  of  individual 
men  may  be,  advanced  humanity  as  a collective  whole  has 
reached  a degree  of  moral  maturity,  a state  of  feeling  and 
consciousness,  which  is  beginning  to  make  impossible  for  it  things 
which  to  the  ancient  world  were  natural.  And  even  individual 
men,  if  they  have  not  renounced  reason  altogether,  hold,  in  the 
form  of  rational  conviction  if  not  in  the  form  of  religious  faith, 
the  moral  principle  which  does  not  permit  the  legalisation  of 
collective  crimes.  The  very  fact  of  the  remotest  parts  of 
humanity  coming  into  contact,  of  getting  to  know  one  another 
and  becoming  mutually  connected,  does  much  to  abolish  the 
barriers  and  estrangement  between  men,  natural  from  the  narrow 
point  of  view  of  the  ancients,  for  whom  the  Straits  of  Gibraltar 
were  the  extreme  limit  of  the  universe,  and  the  banks  of  the 
Dnieper  or  the  Don  were  populated  by  men  with  dogs’  heads. 

International  wars  are  not  yet  abolished,  but  the  point  of  view 
with  regard  to  them  has  changed  in  a striking  degree,  especially 
of  late.  The  fear  of  war  has  become  the  predominant  motive  of 
international  policy,  and  no  Government  would  venture  to  confess 


THE  MORAL  NORM  OF  SOCIAL  LIFE  273 

to  harbouring  plans  of  conquest.  Slavery  in  the  proper  sense  has 
been  finally  and  wholly  abolished.  Other  crude  forms  of  personal 
dependence  which  survived  till  the  last  century,  and,  in  places,  till 
the  middle  of  the  present,  have  also  been  done  away  with.  What 
remains  is  only  the  indirect  economic  slavery,  but  this  too  is  a 
question  whose  turn  has  come.  Finally,  the  point  of  view  with 
regard  to  criminals  has  since  the  eighteenth  century  been  clearly 
tending  to  become  more  moral  and  Christian.  And  to  think 
that  this  progress — belated,  but  quick  and  decisive — along  the 
path  mapped  out  nineteen  centuries  ago,  should  cause  anxiety 
for  the  moral  foundations  of  society  ! In  truth,  a false  conception 
of  these  foundations  is  the  chief  obstacle  to  a thorough  moral 
change  in  the  social  life  and  consciousness.  Religion,  family, 
property  cannot  as  such,  that  is,  simply  as  existent  facts,  be  the 
norm  or  the  moral  foundation  of  society.  The  problem  is  not 
to  preserve  these  institutions  at  any  cost  in  statu  quo  but  to 
make  them  conformable  to  the  one  and  only  moral  standard,  so 
that  they  might  be  wholly  permeated  by  the  one  moral  principle. 

This  principle  is  essentially  universal,  the  same  for  all. 
Now,  religion  as  such  need  not  be  universal,  and  all  religions 
of  antiquity  were  strictly  national.  Christianity,  however,  being 
the  embodiment  of  the  absolute  moral  ideal,  is  as  universal  as 
the  moral  principle  itself,  and  at  the  beginning  it  had  this 
character.  But  historical  institutions,  which  in  the  course  of 
history  came  to  be  connected  with  it,  ceased  to  be  universal 
and  therefore  lost  their  pure  and  all-embracing  moral  character* 
And  so  long  as  we  affirm  our  religion,  first^  in  its  denominational 
peculiarity,  and  then  only  as  universal  Christianity,  we  deprive  it 
both  of  a sound  logical  basis  and  of  moral  significance,  and  make 
it  an  obstacle  in  the  way  of  the  spiritual  regeneration  of  humanity. 
Further,  universality  expresses  itself  not  only  by  the  absence  of 
external,  national,  denominational  and  other  limitations,  but  still 
more  by  freedom  from  inner  limitations.  To  be  truly  universal, 
religion  must  not  separate  itself  from  intellectual  enlightenment, 
from  science,  from  social  and  political  progress.  A religion 
which  fears  all  these  things  has  obviously  no  faith  in  its  own 
power  and  is  inwardly  permeated  with  unbelief.  While  claiming 
to  be  the  sole  moral  norm  of  society,  it  fails  to  fulfil  the  most 
elementary  moral  condition  of  being  genuine. 


T 


274  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

The  positive  significance  of  the  family , in  virtue  of  which  it 
may,  in  a sense,  be  the  moral  norm  of  society,  is  apparent  from 
the  following  consideration.  It  is  physically  impossible  for  a 
single  individual  concretely  to  realise  in  his  everyday  life  his  moral 
relation  to  all.  However  sincerely  a man  may  recognise  the 
absolute  demands  of  the  moral  ideal,  he  cannot,  in  real  life, 
apply  these  demands  to  all  human  beings,  for  the  simple  reason 
that  the  ‘all’  do  not  concretely  exist  for  him.  He  cannot 
give  practical  proof  of  his  respect  for  the  human  dignity  of  the 
millions  of  men  about  whom  he  knows  nothing  ; he  cannot 
make  them  in  concreto  the  positive  end  of  his  activity.  And 
yet,  unless  the  moral  demand  is  completely  realised  in  perceptible 
personal  relations,  it  remains  an  abstract  principle  which 
enlightens  the  mind,  but  does  not  regenerate  the  life  of  man. 
The  solution  of  this  contradiction  is  that  moral  relations  ought 
to  be  fully  realised  within  a certain  limited  environment  in 
which  each  man  is  placed  in  his  concrete  everyday  existence. 
This  is  precisely  the  true  function  of  the  family.  Each  member 
of  it  is  not  only  intended  and  meant  to  be,  but  actually  is,  an 
end  for  all  the  others  ; each  is  perceptibly  recognised  to  have 
absolute  significance,  each  is  irreplaceable.  From  this  point  of 
view  the  family  is  the  pattern  and  the  elementary  constitutive  cell 
of  universal  brotherhood  or  of  human  society  as  it  ought  to  be. 
But  in  order  to  preserve  such  a significance,  the  family  obviously 
must  not  become  the  embodiment  of  mutual  egoism.  It  must 
be  the  first  stage  from  which  each  of  its  members  may  be  always 
able  to  ascend,  as  much  as  in  him  lies,  to  a greater  realisation  of 
the  moral  principle  in  the  world.  The  family  is  either  the  crown- 
ing stage  of  egoism  or  the  beginning  of  world-wide  union.  To 
uphold  it  in  the  first  sense  does  not  mean  to  uphold  a ‘ moral 
foundation  ’ of  society. 

Property  as  such  has  no  moral  significance.  No  one  is 
morally  bound  either  to  be  rich  or  to  enrich  other  people. 
General  equality  of  property  is  as  impossible  and  unnecessary 
as  sameness  in  the  colouring  or  in  the  quantity  of  hair.  There 
is  one  condition,  however,  which  renders  the  question  as  to 
the  distribution  of  property  a moral  question.  It  is  inconsistent 
with  human  dignity  and  with  the  moral  norm  of  society  that 
a person  should  be  unable  to  support  his  existence,  or,  that  in 


THE  MORAL  NORM  OF  SOCIAL  LIFE  275 

order  to  do  so  he  should  spend  so  much  time  and  strength  as 
to  have  none  left  for  looking  after  his  human,  intellectual  and 
moral  improvement.  In  that  case  man  ceases  to  be  an  end  for 
himself  and  for  others,  and  becomes  merely  a material  instrument 
of  economic  production,  on  a level  with  soulless  machines. 
And  since  the  moral  principle  unconditionally  demands  that  we 
should  respect  the  human  dignity  of  all  and  each,  and  regard 
every  one  as  an  end  in  himself  and  not  only  as  a means,  a society 
that  desires  to  be  morally  normal  cannot  remain  indifferent  to 
such  a position  of  any  one  of  its  members.  It  is  its  direct  duty 
to  secure  to  each  and  all  a certain  minimum  of  well-being,  just 
as  much  as  is  necessary  to  support  a worthy  human  existence. 
The  way  to  attain  this  is  a problem  for  economics  and  not 
for  ethics.  In  any  case  it  ought  to  be,  and  therefore  it  can 
be,  done. 

All  human  society,  and  especially  society  that  professes  to 
be  Christian,  must,  if  it  is  to  go  on  existing  and  to  attain  to  a 
higher  dignity,  conform  to  the  moral  standard.  What  matters  is 
not  the  external  preservation  of  certain  institutions,  which  may 
be  good  or  bad,  but  a sincere  and  consistent  striving  inwardly  to 
improve  all  institutions  and  social  relations  which  may  be  good, 
by  subordinating  them  more  and  more  to  the  one  unconditional 
moral  ideal  of  the  free  union  of  all  in  the  perfect  good. 

Christianity  put  forward  this  ideal  as  a practical  task  for 
all  peoples  and  nations,  answered  for  its  being  realisable — given 
a good  will  on  our  part — and  promised  help  from  above  in  the 
execution  of  it — help,  of  which  there  is  sufficient  evidence  both 
in  personal  and  in  historical  experience.  But  just  because 
the  task  Christianity  sets  before  us  is  a moral  and  therefore  a 
free  one,  the  supreme  Good  cannot  help  man  by  thwarting  the 
evil  will  or  externally  removing  the  obstacles  which  that  will 
puts  in  the  way  of  the  realisation  of  the  kingdom  of  God. 
Humanity  as  represented  by  individuals  and  nations  must  itself 
outlive  and  overcome  these  obstacles,  which  are  to  be  found  both 
in  the  individual  evil  will  and  in  the  complex  effects  of  the 
collective  evil  will.  This  is  the  reason  why  progress  in  the 
Christian  world  is  so  slow,  and  why  Christianity  appears  to  be 
lifeless  and  inactive. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  NATIONAL  QUESTION  FROM  THE  MORAL  POINT  OF  VIEW 

The  work  of  embodying  perfect  morality  in  the  collective 
whole  of  mankind  is  hindered,  in  addition  to  individual  passions 
and  vices,  by  the  inveterate  forms  of  collective  evil  which  act 
like  a contagion.  In  spite  of  the  slow  but  sure  progress  in  the 
life  of  humanity,  that  evil  shows  itself  now,  as  it  did  of  old,  in 
a threefold  hostility,  a threefold  immoral  relation — between 
different  nations,  between  society  and  the  criminal,  between 
the  different  classes  of  society.  Listen  to  the  way  in  which  the 
French  speak  of  the  Germans,  the  Portuguese  of  the  Dutch, 
the  Chinese  of  the  English,  and  Americans  of  the  Chinese. 
Consider  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  the  audience  at  a criminal 
trial,  the  behaviour  of  a crowd  using  lynch  law  in  America, 
or  settling  accounts  with  a witch  or  a horse-stealer  in  Russia. 
Hear  or  read  the  remarks  exchanged  between  socialist  workmen 
and  representatives  of  the  propertied  classes  at  meetings,  and  in 
the  newspapers.  It  will  then  become  evident  that  apart  from 
the  anomalies  of  the  personal  will  we  must  also  take  into  account 
the  power  of  the  superpersonal  or  collective  hostility  in  its  three 
aspects.  The  national,  the  penal  and  the  socially  economic 
questions  have,  independently  of  all  considerations  of  internal  and 
external  policy,  a special  interest  for  the  moral  consciousness. 
To  deal  with  them  from  this  point  of  view  is  all  the  more 
essential,  because  a new  and  worse  evil  has  been  added  of  late  to 
the  calamity  of  the  hereditary  disease — namely,  the  rash  attempt 
to  cure  it  by  preaching  new  forms  of  social  violence  on  the  one 
hand,  and  a passive  disintegration  of  humanity  into  its  individual 
units  on  the  other. 


276 


THE  NATIONAL  QUESTION 


277 


I 

Man’s  relation  to  nationality  is  in  our  day  generally  determined 
in  two  ways  : as  nationalistic  or  as  cosmopolitan.  There  may  be 
many  shades  and  transition  stages  in  the  domain  of  feeling  and  of 
taste,  but  there  are  only  two  clear  and  definite  points  of  view. 
The  first  may  be  formulated  as  follows  : We  must  love  our  own 
nation  and  serve  it  by  all  the  means  at  our  command , and  to  other 
nations  we  may  be  indifferent.  If  their  interests  conflict  with  ours , 
we  must  take  up  a hostile  attitude  to  the  foreign  nations.  The  essence 
of  the  cosmopolitan  view  is  this  : Nationality  is  merely  a natural 
fact , devoid  of  all  moral  significance  ; we  have  no  duties  to  the  nation 
as  such  ( neither  to  our  own  nor  to  any  other ) ; our  duty  is  only  to 
individual  men  without  any  distinction  of  nationality. 

It  is  at  once  apparent  that  neither  view  expresses  the  right 
attitude  towards  the  fact  of  national  difference.  The  first  ascribes 
to  this  fact  an  absolute  significance  which  it  cannot  possess,  and 
the  second  deprives  it  of  all  significance.  It  will  be  easily  seen 
also  that  each  view  finds  its  justification  solely  in  the  negative 
aspect  of  the  opposite  view. 

No  rational  believer  in  cosmopolitanism  would,  of  course,  find 
fault  with  the  adherents  of  nationalism  for  loving  their  own 
country.  He  would  only  blame  them  for  thinking  that  it  is 
permissible,  and  in  some  cases  even  obligatory,  to  hate  and  despise 
men  of  a different  race  and  nationality.  In  the  same  way  the 
most  ardent  nationalist  will  not,  unless  he  is  altogether  devoid  of 
reason,  attack  the  champions  of  cosmopolitanism  for  demanding 
justice  for  other  nations,  but  will  accuse  them  of  being  indifferent 
to  their  own.  So  that  in  each  of  these  views  even  its  direct 
opponents  cannot  help  distinguishing  the  good  side  from  the  bad, 
and  the  question  naturally  arises  whether  these  two  sides  are 
necessarily  connected.  Does  love  for  one’s  own  people  necessarily 
imply  the  view  that  all  means  of  serving  it  are  permissible,  and 
justify  an  indifferent  and  hostile  relation  to  other  nations  ? Does 
the  same  moral  relation  to  all  human  beings  necessarily  mean 
indifference  to  nationality  in  general,  and  to  one’s  own  in 
particular  ? 

The  first  question  is  easily  solved  by  analysing  the  content  of 


278  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

the  idea  of  true  patriotism  or  love  for  one’s  country.  The 
necessity  for  such  an  elementary  analysis  will  be  recognised  by 
every  one.  For  every  one  will  agree  that  patriotism  may  be 
irrational , do  harm  instead  of  the  intended  good,  and  lead  nations 
to  disaster  ; that  patriotism  may  be  vain , and  based  on  unfounded 
pretensions  ; and,  finally,  that  it  may  be  directly  false^  and  serve 
merely  as  a cloak  for  low  and  selfish  motives.  In  what,  then, 
does  true  or  real  patriotism  consist  ? 

When  we  really  love  some  one,  we  wish  and  strive  to  obtain 
for  them  both  moral  and  material  good, — the  latter,  however, 
only  on  condition  of  the  former.  To  every  one  whom  I love 
I wish,  among  other  things,  material  prosperity,  provided,  of 
course,  that  it  is  attained  by  honourable  means  and  made  good 
use  of.  But  if,  when  my  friend  is  in  need,  I were  to  assist  him 
in  making  his  fortune  by  fraud,  even  supposing  that  he  would 
be  certain  to  escape  punishment — or,  if  he  were  a writer,  and  I 
advised  him  to  increase  his  literary  fame  by  a successful  plagiarism, 
I should  be  rightly  considered  by  every  one  to  be  either  a madman 
or  a scoundrel,  and  certainly  not  a good  friend. 

It  is  clear  then  that  the  goods  which  love  leads  us  to  desire  for 
our  neighbours  differ  both  in  their  external  character  and  in  their 
inner  meaning  for  the  will.  Spiritual  goods  exclude,  by  the  very 
conception  of  them,  the  possibility  of  being  attained  by  bad 
means  ; one  cannot  steal  moral  dignity,  or  plunder  justice,  or 
appropriate  benevolence.  These  goods  are  unconditionally  desirable. 
Material  goods,  which,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  admit  of  bad 
means,  are  on  the  contrary  desirable  on  condition  that  such  means 
are  not  used,  i.e.  on  condition  that  material  ends  are  subordinate 
to  the  moral  end. 

Up  to  a certain  point  every  one  will  agree  with  this  element- 
ary truth.  Every  one  would  grant  that  it  is  wrong  to  enrich 
oneself  at  the  cost  of  a crime,  or  to  enrich  a friend,  one’s  own  or 
his  family,  or  even  one’s  town  or  province  at  the  cost  of  a crime. 
But  this  elementary  moral  truth  which  is  as  clear  as  day  suddenly 
becomes  dim  and  altogether  obscure  as  soon  as  we  get  to  one’s 
country.  Everything  becomes  permissible  in  the  service  of  its 
supposed  interests,  the  purpose  justifies  the  means,  the  black 
becomes  white,  falsehood  is  preferred  to  truth,  violence  is  extolled 
as  a virtue.  Nationality  here  becomes  the  final  end,  the  highest 


THE  NATIONAL  QUESTION  279 

good  and  the  standard  of  good  for  human  activity.  Such  undue 
glorification  is,  however,  purely  illusory,  and  is  in  truth  degrading 
to  the  nation.  The  highest  human  goods  cannot,  as  we  have 
seen,  be  attained  by  immoral  means.  By  admitting  bad  means 
into  our  service  of  the  nation  and  by  justifying  them  we  limit  the 
national  interest  to  the  lower  material  goods  which  may  be 
obtained  and  preserved  by  wrong  and  evil  methods.  This  is  a 
direct  injury  to  the  very  nation  we  wish  to  serve.  It  means 
transferring  the  centre  of  gravity  of  the  national  life  from  the 
higher  sphere  to  the  lower,  and  serving  national  egoism  undei 
the  guise  of  serving  the  nation.  The  moral  worthlessness  of  such 
nationalism  is  proved  by  history  itself.  There  is  abundant 
evidence  that  nations  prospered  and  were  great  only  so  long  as 
they  did  not  make  themselves  their  final  end,  but  served  the 
higher,  the  universal  ideal  ends.  History  shows  also  that  the 
very  conception  of  the  nation  as  a final  and  ultimate  bearer  of 
the  collective  life  of  humanity  is  ill-founded. 

II 

The  division  of  humanity  into  definite  and  stable  groups 
possessing  a national  character  is  a fact  which  is  neither  universal 
nor  first  in  the  order  of  time.  Not  to  speak  of  savages  and 
barbarians,  who  are  still  living  in  separate  families,  clans  or 
nomadic  bands,  division  into  nations  did  not  exclusively  pre- 
dominate even  in  the  civilised  part  of  humanity  when  the  tribe 
was  finally  superseded  by  the  ‘ city  ’ or  ‘ country.’  The  country 
and  the  nation,  though  more  or  less  closely  associated,  do  not  alto- 
gether coincide.  In  the  ancient  world  we  find  hardly  any  clear 
division  into  nations  at  all.  We  find  either  independent  civic  com- 
munities, i.e.  groups  smaller  than  the  nation  and  united  politically 
only  and  not  by  the  bond  of  nationality — such  as  the  cities  of 
Phoenicia,  Greece  and  Italy — or,  on  the  contrary,  groups  larger 
than  the  nation — the  so-called  ‘ world  empires  ’ which  included 
many  peoples,  from  the  Assyro-Babylonic  down  to  the  Roman. 
In  these  crude  precursors  of  the  universal  unity  of  mankind 
national  considerations  had  merely  a material  significance  and 
were  not  the  determining  factor.  The  idea  of  nationality 
as  the  supreme  principle  of  life  found  neither  the  time  nor 


280  the  justification  of  the  good 

the  place  for  its  application  in  the  ancient  world.  The 
opposition  between  one’s  own  people  and  aliens  was  then 
far  more  sharp  and  ruthless  than  it  is  now,  but  it  was 
not  determined  by  nationality.  In  the  kingdom  of  Darius  and 
Xerxes  men  of  different  race  and  nationality  were  all  regarded  as 
members  of  one  body,  since  they  were  equally  subject  to  one 
common  authority  and  one  supreme  law.  Enemies  or  aliens  were 
the  men  who  were  not  yet  brought  under  the  rule  of  ‘ the  great 
king.’  On  the  other  hand,  in  Greece,  the  fact  that  Spartans  and 
Athenians  spoke  the  same  language,  had  the  same  gods  and  realised 
that  they  belonged  to  the  same  nation,  did  not  prevent  them  from 
treating  each  other  as  foreigners  throughout  their  history,  or  even 
from  being  mortal  enemies.  Similar  relations  held  between  other 
cities  or  civic  communities  of  Greece,  and  only  once  in  a thousand 
years  did  the  true  national  or  pan-Greek  patriotism  actively  show 
itself,  namely,  during  the  Persian  war.  The  coincidence — and  that 
only  an  approximate  one — between  practical  solidarity  and  national 
character  hardly  lasted  for  forty  years,  and  was  superseded  by  a 
fierce  and  prolonged  slaughter  of  the  Greeks  by  the  Greeks  during 
the  Peloponnesian  war.  This  state  of  deadly  struggle  between 
small  communities  belonging  to  one  and  the  same  nation  was  con- 
sidered perfectly  normal  and  continued  up  to  the  moment  when 
all  these  communities  together  lost  their  independence.  They 
lost  it  not  in  order  to  form  a national  unity,  but  in  order  that  the 
Greek  nation  might,  under  the  power  of  foreign  kings,  immediately 
pass  from  its  state  of  political  disruption  to  becoming  the  uniting 
and  civilising  element  in  the  whole  of  the  ancient  world.  The 
opposition  between  fellow-citizens  and  aliens  [i.e.  inhabitants  of 
another  city,  though  a Greek  one)  had  now  lost  its  meaning  as  a 
supreme  political  principle,  and  was  not  replaced  by  the  opposition 
between  their  own  and  other  nations.  What  remained  was  the 
wider  opposition  between  Hellenism  and  barbarism,  meaning  by 
the  former  participation  in  the  higher  intellectual  and  aesthetic 
culture,  and  not  necessarily  the  fact  of  being  a Greek  by  birth,  or  of 
using  the  Greek  language.  Not  even  the  most  arrogant  of  Greeks 
ever  regarded  Horaceand  Vergil,  Augustus  or  Maecenas  as  barbarians. 
Indeed  the  founders  of  the  Hellenic  ‘ world  empire  ’ themselves — 
the  Macedonian  kings  Philip  and  Alexander,  were  not  Greeks 
in  the  ethnographical  sense.  And  it  was  owing  to  these  two 


THE  NATIONAL  QUESTION  281 

foreigners  that  Greeks  immediately  passed  from  the  narrow  local 
patriotism  of  separate  civic  communities  to  the  consciousness  of 
themselves  as  bearers  of  a world-wide  culture,  without  ever  return- 
ing to  the  stage  of  the  national  patriotism  of  the  Persian  wars. 
As  to  Rome,  the  whole  of  Roman  history  was  a continuous 
transition  from  the  policy  of  a city  to  the  policy  of  a world 
Empire — ab  urbe  ad  orbem — without  pausing  at  a purely  national 
stage.  When  Rome  was  defending  herself  against  the  Punic 
invasion,  she  was  merely  the  most  powerful  of  the  Italian  cities. 
When  she  crushed  her  enemy,  she  imperceptibly  overstepped  the 
ethnographical  and  the  geographical  boundaries  of  Latinism  and 
became  conscious  of  herself  as  a moving  force  in  the  world-history, 
anticipating  by  two  centuries  the  poet’s  reminder — 

But,  Rome,  ’tis  thine  alone,  with  awful  sway, 

To  rule  mankind  and  make  the  world  obey, 

Disposing  peace  and  war  thy  own  majestic  way, 

To  tame  the  proud,  the  fetter’d  slave  to  free. 

Roman  citizenship  soon  became  accessible  to  all,  and  the  formula 
c Rome  for  the  Romans  ’ appealed  to  no  one  on  the  banks  of  the 
Tiber  : Rome  was  for  the  world. 

While  Alexanders  and  Caesars  were  politically  abolishing  in 
East  and  West  the  vague  limits  of  nationality,  cosmopolitanism  as 
a philosophical  doctrine  was  developed  and  disseminated  by  the 
representatives  of  the  two  most  popular  schools  of  thought — the 
wandering  Cynics  and  the  dispassionate  Stoics.  They  preached 
the  supremacy  of  nature  and  reason,  the  unity  underlying  all 
existence  and  the  insignificance  of  all  artificial  and  historical 
limitations  and  divisions.  They  taught  that  man  by  his  very 
nature  and  therefore  every  man  had  a supreme  destination  and 
dignity,  consisting  in  freedom  from  external  affections,  errors  and 
passions,  in  the  steadfast  courage  of  the  man  who  “ if  the  whole 
world  were  dashed  to  fragments,  would  remain  serene  among  the 
ruins.  ” 1 Hence  they  inevitably  recognised  all  the  externally  given 
determinations,  social,  national,  etc.,  as  conventional  and  illusory. 
Roman  jurisprudence,2  in  its  own  sphere  and  from  its  own  point 

1 Si  fractus  illabatur  orbis 

Impavidum  ferient  ruinae. 

2 For  confirmation  of  these  statements  see  last  chapter  of  Part  I.  of  Natsionalny 
Vopros  ( The  national  question ),  by  the  present  author. 


282  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

of  view,  also  supported  the  philosophical  ideas  of  natural  and 
therefore  universal  reason,  of  virtue  which  is  the  same  for  all,  and 
of  the  equality  of  human  rights.  As  a result  of  this  collective 
intellectual  work  the  conception  ‘Roman’  became  identical 
with  the  conception  of  ‘ universal,’  both  in  its  external  range  of 
application  and  in  its  inner  content.1 


Ill 

At  the  beginning  of  the  Christian  era  the  Jewish  people  were 
the  only  one  within  the  civilised  world  of  antiquity  who  had  a 
strong  national  consciousness.  But  in  their  case  it  was  intimately 
associated  with  their  religion,  with  the  true  feeling  of  its  inner 
superiority  and  a presentiment  of  world-wide  historical  destiny. 
The  national  consciousness  of  the  Jews  had  no  real  satis- 
faction ; it  lived  by  hopes  and  expectations.  The  short-lived 
greatness  of  David  and  Solomon  was  idealised  and  transformed 
into  a golden  age.  But  the  vital  historical  instinct  of  the  people 
who  were  the  first  to  evolve  a philosophy  of  history  (in  the  book 
of  Daniel  on  the  world  empires  and  on  the  kingdom  of  truth  of 
the  Son  of  man)  did  not  allow  them  to  stop  at  the  glorified  image 
of  the  past  and  made  them  transfer  their  ideal  into  the  future.  This 
ideal,  however,  had  from  the  first  certain  features  of  universal 
significance,  and  when,  by  the  inspiration  of  the  prophets,  it  was 
transferred  to  the  future  it  became  finally  free  from  all  narrow 
nationalistic  limitations.  Isaiah  proclaimed  the  Christ  as  the 
banner  that  is  to  gather  all  nations  round  Himself,  and  the  author 
of  the  book  of  Daniel  entirely  adopted  the  point  of  view  of  universal 
history. 

This  universalistic.  conception  of  the  Messiah,  expressing  the 
true  national  self-consciousness  of  the  Jews  as  the  finest  ideal 
flower  of  the  spirit  of  the  people,  was  held  only  by  the  elect  few. 
When  the  banner  for  all  the  peoples  was,  as  foretold  by  the 
prophets,  raised  in  Jerusalem  and  Galilee,  the  majority  of  the  Jews 
with  their  official  leaders  (the  Sadducees),  and  partly  with  their 
unofficial  teachers  (the  Pharisees),  proved  to  be  on  the  side  of  the 

1 Although  the  Stoic  philosophy  originated  in  Greece,  independently  of  Rome,  it 
developed  only  in  the  Roman  era,  was  particularly  prevalent  among  the  Romans,  and 
manifested  its  practical  influence  chiefly  through  Roman  lawyers. 


THE  NATIONAL  QUESTION  283 

national  and  religious  exclusiveness  as  against  the  highest  realisation 
of  the  prophetic  ideal.  The  inevitable  conflict  and  breach  between 
these  two  tendencies — these  c two  souls,’ 1 as  it  were — of  the 
Jewish  people  sufficiently  explains  (from  the  purely  historical  point 
of  view)  the  great  tragedy  of  Golgotha,  with  which  Christianity 
began.2 

It  would,  however,  be  an  obvious  mistake  to  associate 
Christianity  with  the  principle  of  cosmopolitanism.  There  was 
no  occasion  for  the  Apostles  to  preach  against  nationality.  The 
dangerous  and  immoral  aspect  of  national  divisions,  namely,  mutual 
hatred  and  malignant  struggle,  no  longer  existed  within  the  limits 
of  the  c universe  ’ 3 of  that  day  ; Roman  peace — pax  Romana — had 
abolished  wars  between  nations.  Christian  universalism  was 
directed  against  other  and  more  profound  divisions,  which  remained 
in  full  force  in  practical  life  in  spite  of  the  ideas  of  the  prophets, 
the  philosophers,  and  the  jurists.  There  remained  the  distinction 
of  religion  between  Judaism  and  paganism,  the  distinction  of 
culture  between  Hellenism  (which  included  educated  Romans) 
and  barbarism,  and,  finally,  the  worst  distinction — the  socially- 
economic  one — between  freemen  and  slaves.  It  had  retained  all 
its  force  in  practice,  in  spite  of  the  theoretical  protests  of  the  Stoics. 
These  divisions  were  in  direct  opposition  to  the  moral  principle — 
which  was  not  the  case  with  the  national  distinctions  of  that  time. 
The  latter  had  in  the  Roman  Empire  as  innocent  a character  as, 
for  instance,  the  provincialism  of  Gascogne  or  Brittany  has  in 
modern  France.  But  the  opposition  between  the  Jews  and  the 
Gentiles,  the  Hellenes  and  the  barbarians,  freemen  and  slaves, 
involved  the  denial  of  all  solidarity  between  them  ; it  was  an  opposi- 
tion of  the  higher  beings  to  the  lower,  the  lower  having  their  moral 
dignity  and  human  rights  denied  to  them.4  This  is  the  reason  why 
St.  Paul  had  to  proclaim  that  in  Jesus  Christ  there  is  neither  Jew 

1 Two  souls  live  in  my  breast, 

They  struggle,  and  long  to  be  parted. 

Goethe. 

2 That  the  best  among  the  Pharisees  took  no  part  in  the  persecution  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  were  favourable  to  primitive  Christianity,  is  shown  in  Professor  Hvolson’s  excellent 
article  in  the  Memuari  Akademii  Nauk  ( Proceedings  of  the  Academy  of  Sciences'),  1893. 

3 0 iKOfciv-q  (i.e.  yr)),  the  Greek  name  for  the  Roman  Empire. 

4 In  speaking  of  the  opposition  between  Judaism  and  paganism,  I am  referring,  of 
course,  not  to  the  teaching  of  Moses  and  the  prophets  and  sages — they  all  recognised  in 
principle  that  the  pagans  had  human  rights — but  to  the  spirit  of  the  crowd  and  its  leaders 


284  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

nor  Greek,  neither  bond  nor  free,  but  a new  creation — a new  creation, 
however,  and  not  simple  reduction  of  the  old  to  one  denominator. 
In  the  place  of  the  negative  ideal  of  the  dispassionate  Stoic  un- 
moved by  the  downfall  of  the  world,  the  Apostle  puts  the  positive 
ideal  of  a man  full  of  compassion  and  at  one  with  all  that  lives, 
who  shares  in  the  sufferings  of  the  universal  man,  Christ,  and  in 
His  death  that  redeems  the  world,  and  therefore  participates  in 
His  triumph  over  death  and  in  the  salvation  of  the  whole  world. 
In  Christianity  the  mind  passes  from  the  abstract  man  in  general 
of  the  philosophers  and  jurists  to  the  concrete  universal  man. 
The  old  hostility  and  estrangement  between  different  sections  of 
humanity  is  thereby  completely  abolished.  Every  man,  if  only 
he  lets  ‘ Christ  be  formed  in  him,’ 1 i.e.  if  he  enters  into  the  spirit 
of  the  perfect  man,  and  determines  all  his  life  and  activity  by  the 
ideal  revealed  in  the  image  of  Christ,  participates  in  the  Godhead 
through  the  power  of  the  Son  of  God  abiding  in  him.  For  the 
regenerated  man  individuality,  like  all  other  characteristics  and 
distinctions,  including  that  of  nationality,  ceases  to  be  a limit,  and 
becomes  the  basis  of  positive  union  with  the  collective  all- 
embracing  humanity  or  Church  (in  its  true  nature),  which  is 
complementary  to  him.  According  to  the  well-known  saying 
of  St.  Paul  the  peculiarities  of  structure  and  of  function  which 
distinguish  a given  bodily  organ  from  other  organs  do  not  separate 
it  from  them  and  from  the  rest  of  the  body,  but  on  the  contrary 
are  the  basis  of  its  definite  positive  participation  in  the  life  of  the 
organism,  and  make  it  of  unique  value  to  all  the  other  organs 
and  the  body  as  a whole.  Likewise  in  the  ‘ body  of  Christ  ’ in- 
dividual peculiarities  do  not  separate  one  person  from  others,  but 
unite  each  with  all,  being  the  ground  of  his  special  significance 
for  all  and  of  his  positive  interaction  with  them.  Now  this  ob- 
viously applies  to  nationality  as  well.  The  all-embracing  humanity 
(or  the  Church  which  the  Apostle  preached)  is  not  an  abstract  idea, 
but  is  a harmonious  union  of  all  the  concrete  positive  characteristics 
of  the  new  or  the  regenerated  creation.  It  therefore  includes  the 
national  as  well  as  the  personal  characteristics.  The  body  of 
Christ  is  a perfect  organism  and  cannot  consist  of  simple  cells 
alone  ; it  must  contain  larger  and  more  complex  organs,  which 
in  this  connection  are  naturally  represented  by  the  different  nations. 

1 St.  Paul’s  expression. 


THE  NATIONAL  QUESTION  285 

The  difference  between  the  personal  and  the  national  character 
is  not  one  of  principle 1 but  of  greater  stability  and  wider  range  in 
the  case  of  the  latter.  Since  Christianity  does  not  demand  absence 
of  individual  character,  it  cannot  demand  absence  of  national  char- 
acter. The  spiritual  regeneration  it  demands  both  of  individuals 
and  of  nations  does  not  mean  a loss  of  the  natural  qualities  and 
powers  ; it  means  that  these  qualities  are  transformed,  that  a new 
direction  and  a new  content  are  given  them.  When  Peter  and  John 
were  regenerated  by  the  spirit  of  Christ,  they  did  not  lose  any  of 
their  positive  peculiarities  and  distinct  characteristic  features.  So 
far  from  losing  their  individuality,  they  developed  and  strengthened 
it.  This  is  how  it  must  be  with  entire  nations  converted  to 
Christianity. 

Actual  adoption  of  the  true  religion  containing  the  uncondi- 
tional principle  of  morality  must  sweep  away  a great  deal  from  the 
national  as  well  as  from  the  individual  life.  But  that  which  is  in- 
compatible with  the  unconditional  principle  and  has  therefore  to  be 
destroyed  does  not  constitute  a positive  characteristic  or  peculiarity. 
There  is  such  a thing  as  collective  evil  will,  as  historical  sin 
burdening  the  national  conscience,  as  a wrong  direction  of  the  life 
and  activity  of  a nation.  From  all  these  wrongs  a nation  must  set 
itself  free,  but  such  freedom  can  only  strengthen  it,  and  increase 
and  widen  the  expression  of  its  positive  character. 

The  first  preachers  of  the  Gospel  had  no  reason  to  occupy 
themselves  with  the  national  question  which  the  life  of  humanity 
had  not  yet  brought  to  the  fore,  since  there  were  hardly  any 
distinct,  independent  nations  conscious  of  themselves  as  such  on 
the  historical  arena  of  the  time.  Nevertheless  we  find  in  the  New 

1 This  is  brought  out  by  the  fact  that  the  only  rational  way  of  accounting  for  the 
genesis  of  a stable  national  character,  such  as  the  Jewish — which  is  not  affected  by  the 
external  influences  of  climate,  history,  etc.,  is  to  suppose  that  it  is  the  inherited,  personal 
character  of  the  national  ancestor.  The  inner  truth  of  the  Biblical  characteristic  of 
Jacob — the  ancestor  of  the  Jews — and  also  of  Ishmail,  the  ancestor  of  the  Northern 
Arabs,  will  be  recognised  by  any  impartial  reader,  whatever  his  attitude  to  the  historical 
side  of  the  narrative  may  be.  Even  granting  that  the  man  named  Jacob,  who  did  all 
that  in  the  book  of  Genesis  he  is  said  to  have  done,  never  existed  at  all,  anyway  the 
Jews,  or  at  any  rate  the  chief  tribe  of  Judah,  must  have  had  a common  progenitor  ; and 
starting  with  the  national  character  of  the  Jews  we  must  conclude  that  that  progenitor 
had  precisely  the  typical  peculiarities  which  the  Bible  ascribes  to  Jacob.  See  S.  M. 
Solovyov’s  Nabludeniya  nad  istoricheskoiu  zkiznyu  narodov  [Observations  on  the  historical 
life  of  nations ),  and  also  my  Filosofa  Bibleiskoi  Istorii  ( The  Philosophy  of  the  Biblical 
History ) in  the  Istoria  Teokratii  [History  of  Theocracy). 


286  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


Testament  definite  indications  of  a positive  attitude  to  nationality. 
The  words  spoken  to  the  Samaritan  woman,  “ salvation  is  of  the 
Jews,"  1 and  the  preliminary  direction  to  the  disciples,  “ go  rather 
to  the  lost  sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel,” 2 clearly  show  Christ’s 
love  for  His  own  people.  And  His  final  command  to  the  Apostles, 
“Go  ye  therefore,  and  teach  all  nations,"  3 implies  that  even  out- 
side Israel  He  contemplated  not  separate  individuals  only,  but 
entire  peoples.4  When  St.  Paul  became  the  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles 
he  did  not  thereupon  become  a cosmopolitan.  Though  separated 
from  the  majority  of  his  compatriots  in  the  all-important  question 
of  religion,  he  was  not  indifferent  to  his  people  and  their  special 
destination  : 

“ I say  the  truth  in  Christ,  I lie  not,  my  conscience  also  bearing 
me  witness  in  the  Holy  Ghost,  that  I have  great  heaviness  and 
continual  sorrow  in  my  heart.  For  I could  wish  that  myself 
were  accursed  from  Christ  for  my  brethren,  my  kinsmen  according 
to  the  flesh  : who  are  Israelites ; to  whom  pertaineth  the  adoption, 
and  the  glory,  and  the  covenants,  and  the  giving  of  the  law,  and 
the  service  of  God,  and  the  promises ; whose  are  the  fathers,  and  of 
whom,  as  concerning  the  flesh,  Christ  came.  . . . Brethren,  my 
heart’s  desire  and  prayer  to  God  for  Israel  is,  that  they  might  be 
saved.” 5 

IV 

Before  they  could  realise  the  ideal  of  universal  humanity, 
nations  had  first  to  be  formed  as  distinct  independent  bodies. 
Let  us  consider  this  process  with  special  reference  to  Western 
Europe,  where  it  is  finally  completed.  The  Apostles’  successors,  to 
whom  the  command  to  teach  all  nations  was  handed  down,  soon 
came  to  deal  with  nations  in  their  infancy,  standing  in  need  of 
elementary  upbringing  before  they  could  be  taught.  The  Church 
nurtured  them  conscientiously  and  with  self-sacrificing  devotion, 

1 St.  John  iv.  22.  2 St.  Matthew  x.  6.  3 St.  Matthew  xxviii.  19. 

4 The  words  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  (i.  8),  “Ye  shall  be  witnesses  unto  me  both 
in  Jerusalem,  and  in  all  Judea,  and  in  Samaria,  and  unto  the  uttermost  part  of  the 
earth,”  show  still  more  clearly  that  the  Saviour  of  the  world  recognised  a definite,  local 
and  national  starting-point  for  His  world-wide  work. 

5 Romans  ix.  1-5,  x.  1. 


THE  NATIONAL  QUESTION  287 

and  then  continued  to  act  as  their  guardian,  making  them  pass 
through  a school  that  was  somewhat  one-sided  though  not  bad. 
The  historical  childhood  and  youth  of  the  Romano-Germanic 
nations  under  the  guardianship  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church — 
the  so-called  Middle  Ages — did  not  end  in  anything  like  a normal 
way.  The  spiritual  authorities  failed  to  observe  that  their 
nurslings  had  come  of  age,  and,  from  natural  human  weakness, 
insisted  on  treating  them  in  the  same  old  way.  The  anomalies 
and  changes  that  arose  from  this  fact  have  no  bearing  on  our 
subject.  What  is  of  importance  to  us  is  the  phenomenon  which 
took  place  in  the  development  of  every  European  nation.  It  un- 
doubtedly indicates  a certain  general  ethico-historical  law,  for  it 
was  manifested  under  the  most  various  and  often  directly  opposed 
conditions. 

For  reasons  sufficiently  obvious  Italy  was  the  first  of  European 
countries  to  attain  to  national  self-consciousness.  The  Lombard 
League  in  the  middle  of  the  twelfth  century  clearly  indicates 
national  awakening.  The  external  struggle,  however,  was  only  an 
impetus  that  called  to  life  the  true  forces  of  the  Italian  genius.  At 
the  beginning  of  the  next  century  the  newly-born  Italian  language 
was  used  by  St.  Francis  to  express  ideas  and  feelings  of  universal 
significance  that  could  be  understood  by  Buddhists  and  Christians 
alike.  At  the  same  period  began  Italian  painting  (Cimabue), 
and  at  the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth  century  appeared  Dante’s 
comprehensive  poem,  which  would  alone  have  been  sufficient 
to  make  Italy  great.  From  the  fourteenth  to  the  seventeenth 
centuries  Italy,  torn  asunder  by  the  hostilities  between  the  cities 
and  the  podestas,  the  Pope  and  the  Emperor,  the  French  and 
the  Spanish,  produced  all  for  which  humanity  loves  and  values 
her,  all,  of  which  Italians  may  justly  pride  themselves.  All  these 
immortal  works  of  the  philosophical  and  scientific,  poetical  and 
artistic  genius  had  the  same  value  for  other  nations,  for  the  world 
as  a whole  as  for  the  Italians  themselves.  Men  to  whom  Italy’s 
true  greatness  was  due  were  no  doubt  real  patriots.  They  set 
the  greatest  value  upon  their  country,  but  it  was  not  in  their  case 
an  empty  claim  leading  to  false  and  immoral  demands — they  em- 
bodied the  lofty  significance  of  Italy  in  works  of  absolute  value. 
They  did  not  consider  it  true  and  beautiful  to  affirm  themselves 
and  their  nationality,  but  they  directly  affirmed  themselves  in 


288  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

what  is  true  and  beautiful.  Their  works  were  good  not  because 
they  glorified  Italy,  but  rather  they  glorified  Italy  because  they 
were  good  in  themselves — good  for  all.  Under  such  conditions 
patriotism  stands  in  no  need  of  defence  and  justification.  It 
justifies  itself  in  practice,  evincing  itself  as  creative  power  and 
not  as  fruitless  reflection  or  ‘excitement  of  idle  thought.’  Cor- 
responding to  the  inner  intensity  of  the  creative  work  at  this 
blossoming  time  of  Italy  was  the  wide  extension  of  the  Italian 
race  at  that  period.  Its  civilising  influence  extended  to  the 
Crimea  in  the  East  and  Scotland  in  the  North-West.  The  first 
European  to  penetrate  to  Mongolia  and  China  was  Marco  Polo,  an 
Italian.  Another  Italian  discovered  the  new  world,  and  the  third, 
enlarging  that  discovery,  left  it  his  name.  The  literary  influence 
of  Italy  was  for  several  centuries  prevalent  throughout  Europe. 
Italian  poetry,  epic  and  lyric,  and  the  Italian  novel  were  examples 
for  imitation.  Shakespeare  took  from  the  Italians  the  subjects 
and  the  form  of  his  plays.  The  ideas  of  Giordano  Bruno  roused 
philosophical  reflection  both  in  England  and  in  Germany.  The 
Italian  language  and  Italian  fashions  universally  prevailed  in  the 
higher  classes  of  society.  And  while  the  national  creative  work  and 
influence  were  at  their  highest,  Italians  were  obviously  concerned 
not  with  keeping  Italy  for  themselves — at  that  time  indeed  it 
was  for  any  one  who  liked  to  take  it — but  only  with  things  which 
made  them  be  something  for  others  and  gave  them  a universal 
significance.  They  cared  for  the  objective  ideas  of  beauty  and 
truth,  which  through  their  national  spirit  received  a new  and 
worthy  expression.  What  conception  of  nationality  can  be 
logically  deduced  from  this  ? It  cannot  be  said,  with  Italy’s 
national  history  before  us,  that  nationality  is  something  self- 
existent  and  self-contained,  living  in  itself  and  for  itself,  for  this 
great  nation  proves  to  be  simply  a special  form  of  universal 
content,  living  in  that  content,  filled  with  it  and  embodying  it 
not  for  itself  only  but  for  all. 

The  Spanish  nation  developed  under  very  peculiar  conditions. 
For  seven  centuries  Spain  was  the  vanguard  on  the  right  flank  of 
the  Christian  world  in  its  struggle  with  Mohammedanism.  And 
just  when  the  left  flank — Byzantium — was  overthrown  by  the 
enemy,  on  the  right  flank  Spaniards  won  a final  and  decisive 
victory.  This  long  and  successful  struggle  was  justly  regarded  as 


THE  NATIONAL  QUESTION  289 

the  national  glory  of  Spain.  It  is  not  permissible  for  a Christian 
people  to  hate  and  despise  Mohammedans — or  any  one  else — or 
seek  to  exterminate  them  ; but  to  defend  Europe  against  invasion 
by  them  was  a direct  Christian  duty.  For  in  so  far  as  Christianity, 
in  spite  of  all  its  historical  perversions,  contains  absolute  truth,  to 
which  the  future  belongs,  in  so  far  the  defence  even  of  the  external 
boundaries  of  Christian  faith  and  culture  against  the  destructive 
violence  of  the  armed  hordes  of  unbelievers  is  an  unquestionable 
merit  from  the  point  of  view  of  humanity.  Apart  from  the 
question  of  religious  belief,  would  it  have  been  a gain  for  historical 
progress  had  Western  Europe  met  with  the  fate  of  Western 
Asia  or  of  the  Balkan  Peninsula  ? 1 In  defending  themselves 
against  the  Moors  the  Spaniards  were  serving  the  common  cause 
of  humanity,  and  they  knew  it.  They  would  not  dream  of 
saying  ‘ Spain  is  for  the  Spaniards,’  for-  in  that  case  why  should 
they  not  go  further  and  say  ‘ Castile  is  for  the  Castilians, 
Arragon  is  for  the  Arragonians,’  etc.  ? They  felt,  they  thought, 
and  they  proclaimed  that  Spain  was  for  all  Christendom,  as 
Christianity  was  for  all  the  world.  Their  feeling  was  perfectly 
genuine,  they  really  wished  to  serve  their  religion  as  a universal 
religion,  as  the  highest  good  for  all,  and  one  can  only  reproach 
them  with  having  a wrong  or  a one  - sided  conception  of 
Christianity.  The  continuous  struggle  for  a common  and 
just  cause  lasted  for  seven  centuries,  and,  being  chiefly  an 
external  struggle  waged  by  the  force  of  arms,2  it  created  both 

1 At  one  time  the  Moorish  culture  in  Spain  was  not  inferior,  and  in  some  respects 
it  was  superior  to  the  Christian  culture  of  the  period.  But  history  clearly  proves  how 
short-lived  all  Mohammedan  culture  is.  The  end  with  which  it  met  in  the  Middle 
Ages  in  Damascus,  Bagdad  and  Cairo  would  no  doubt  have  been  repeated  once 
more  in  the  West.  There  too  it  would  have  been  replaced  by  stable  barbarism,  such 
as  the  Turkish.  And  if  the  Bashi-Bazouks  were  to  overrun  London,  and  Saxony  were 
to  be  constantly  raided  by  the  Kurds,  what  would  become  of  the  British  Museum  and  the 
Leipzig  Press?  This  is  an  argument  ad  homines.  But  speaking  quite  seriously  and 
wholly  admitting  the  comparative  merits  of  Mohammedanism  and  the  historical  tasks 
it  still  has  to  accomplish  in  Asia  and  Africa,  it  must  be  remembered  that  this  religion 
professedly  renounces  the  absolute  moral  ideal,  i.e.  the  principle  of  the  perfect  mani- 
festation of  God  in  man,  and  has  no  right  therefore  to  dominate  Christian  peoples.  To 
repulse  the  Mohammedan  invasion  of  Europe  was  therefore  both  a historical  necessity 
and  a historical  merit  for  the  Christian  nations  which  took  a leading  part  in  the 
struggle. 

2 Chiefly,  but  not  exclusively,  for  Spain  too  had  some  truly  spiritual  champions  of 
Christianity.  Such,  e.g.,  was  Raymond  Lullius,  who  devoted  his  life  to  spreading  the 

U 


290  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

the  strength  and  the  narrowness  of  the  national  spirit  of  Spain. 
More  than  any  other  nation  the  Spaniards  distorted  the  truth 
of  Christianity  in  their  practical  conception  of  it  and  in  their 
actions  ; more  decisively  than  any  one  they  associated  it  with 
violence.  According  to  the  general  custom  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  the  Spaniards  based  their  practical  view  of  the  world 
upon  the  distinction  between  the  two  swords — the  spiritual 
sword  of  the  monks  under  the  rule  of  the  Pope,  and  the  worldly 
sword  of  the  knights  under  the  rule  of  the  king.  But  in  their 
case — more  than  in  the  case  of  any  other  nation — the  two 
swords  were  so  closely  connected  as  to  become  essentially  alike. 
The  spiritual  sword  proved  in  the  end  to  be  as  material  and 
violent  as  the  worldly,  though  more  painful  and  less  noble  than 
the  latter.  The  special  part  played  by  the  Spanish  nation 
in  this  respect  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  the  Inquisition  had 
twice  been  started  by  Spaniards— by  the  monk  Dominique  in 
the  thirteenth,  and  the  king  Ferdinand  in  the  fifteenth  century.* 1 

The  struggle  of  Spanish  knights  with  the  bellicose  Moham- 
medan invaders  was  a gain  to  Christianity  and  the  source  of  the 
greatness  of  Spain.  The  work  of  the  c spiritual  sword  ’ against 
the  conquered  Moors  and  defenceless  Jews  was  treason  to  the 
spirit  of  Christ,  a disgrace  to  Spain  and  the  first  cause  of  its 
downfall.  The  bitter  fruits  of  the  fatal  historical  sin  did  not 
ripen  at  once.  In  following  its  old  path  of  external  service 
to  the  Christian  faith  Spain  did  one  good  thing  more  for  the 
common  cause  — namely,  she  spread  Christianity  beyond  the 


true  religion  by  means  of  rational  persuasion.  He  worked  out  a special  method, 
which  he  thought  could  render  the  dogmas  of  the  faith  as  self-evident  as  the  truths  of 
pure  mathematics  and  formal  logic.  Later  on  he  became  a missionary,  and  was 
assassinated  in  the  Bastarian  Colonies  for  peaceful  preaching  of  the  Gospel. 

1 It  is  a curious  coincidence  that  in  both  the  East  and  the  West  the  first  persecution 
for  religious  beliefs — namely,  the  persecution  of  the  Manichean  heresy  in  the  fourth 
century — was  due  to  a Spaniard — Theodosius  the  Great.  It  is  curious  too  that  the 
heresy  of  the  Albigenses,  against  which  the  Dominican  inquisition  was  originally 
intended,  was  a direct  development  of  Manicheism,  on  account  of  which  the  Emperor 
Theodosius  had  appointed  his  ‘inquisitors’  ten  centuries  before.  Shortly  before  that 
time  the  deplorable  part  which  the  Spanish  nation  was  to  play  with  regard  to  religious 
persecutions  was  foreshadowed  by  the  fact  that  the  first  execution  for  religious  belief 
(viz.  that  of  the  Priscillian  heretics)  was  due  to  the  instigation  of  two  Spanish  bishops. 
This  unheard-of  action  called  forth  protests  both  in  Italy  (St.  Ambrose  of  Milan)  and 
in  France  (St.  Martin  of  Tours). 


THE  NATIONAL  QUESTION 


291 

ocean.  Spanish  knights  and  pirates  acquired  for  Christian 
culture,  such  as  it  was,  the  greater  part  of  the  new  world.  They 
saved  a whole  country  (Mexico)  from  such  abominations  and 
horrors  of  satanic  heathendom  1 as  cause  even  the  horrors  of  the 
Inquisition  to  fade  (and  the  Inquisition  itself  was  abolished 
soon  after).  They  founded  in  Southern  and  Central  America 
a dozen  new  States  which  take  some  part  in  the  common 
historical  life  of  humanity.  At  the  same  time  Spanish  mission- 
aries— a real  saint  like  the  Jesuit  Francis  Xavier  among  them — 
were  the  first  to  carry  the  Gospel  to  India  and  Japan.  Spain, 
however,  still  regarded  as  its  main  task  the  defence  of  Christianity 
(as  she  understood  it,  i.e.  of  the  Roman  Church)  from  its  im- 
mediate and  most  dangerous  enemies.  In  the  fifteenth  century 
it  found  such  enemies  no  longer  in  the  Mohammedans  but 
in  the  Protestants.  At  the  present  time  we  can  look  upon 
the  Reformation  as  a necessary  moment  in  the  history  of 
Christianity  itself.  But  for  people  who  lived  at  that  epoch  it 
was  impossible  to  take  this  view.  They  either  themselves 
became  Protestants  or  regarded  Protestantism  as  a hostile  attack, 
proceeding  from  the  devil,  against  the  Christian  truth  embodied 
in  the  Church.  For  Spain,  whose  whole  history  was  bound  up 
with  the  Catholic  idea,  there  could  be  no  choice.  All  the 
strength  of  the  most  powerful  country  of  the  time  was  directed 
to  crushing  the  new  religious  movement.  It  was  a work  wrong 
in  principle,  revoltingly  cruel  in  practice,  and  a hopeless  failure 
in  its  result.  The  moral  guilt  of  Spain,  which  made  the  Duke 
of  Alba  her  national  and  ‘ Christian  ’ hero,  is  beyond  all  doubt. 
One  can  only  point  to  some  extenuating  circumstances.  The 
Spanish  were  sincerely,  though  blindly,  convinced  that  they 
were  standing  up  for  a good  that  is  universal,  for  what  is  most 
important  and  precious  to  humanity — the  one  true  religion, 
of  which  godless  renegades,  possessed  by  the  spirit  of  evil,  wanted 
to  rob  mankind.  In  this  national  struggle  against  Protestantism 
the  Spanish  defended  a certain  universal  principle,  namely,  the 
principle  of  the  external  guardianship  of  a divine  institution  over 
humanity.  It  was  a false  and  untenable  universalism,  but  its 
champions  sincerely  believed  in  it  and  served  it  disinterestedly 

1 For  an  impartial  statement  of  the  facts  see  A.  Reville’s  book  on  the  religion  of 
Mexico  and  Peru. 


292  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

without  any  selfish  considerations,  whether  nationally-political  or 
personal.  At  the  same  time  the  Spanish  genius  of  Ignatius 
Loyola  founded,  with  the  purpose  of  combating  Protestantism 
by  peaceful  means,  the  order  of  Jesuits — an  order  of  which 
people  may  think  what  they  like,  but  to  which  one  thing  can 
certainly  not  be  denied  — viz.  its  universal  and  international 
character.  So  that  in  making  the  struggle  with  Protestantism 
into  a national  idea  the  Spanish  did  not  separate  it  from  the 
interests  of  the  common  good,  as  they  understood  it.  The 
unsuccessful  external  struggle  for  Roman  Catholicism  under- 
mined the  kingdom  of  Spain,  but  did  not  exhaust  the  spiritual 
forces  of  the  Spanish  nation.  Moral  energy  shown  in  the 
defence  of  a universal  though  a wrongly  conceived  cause  found 
another  and  a better  expression  in  the  realm  of  the  spirit.  In 
the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries  Spain  made  considerable 
national  contributions  to  the  general  treasury  of  higher  culture 
in  the  domain  of  art,  poetry,  and  contemplative  mysticism.  In 
all  these  things  the  Spanish  genius  was  occupied  with  objects 
important  not  for  the  Spanish  nation  only  but  for  all  mankind. 
Its  work  was  extremely  national  in  character,  but  this  came 
about  naturally,  without  any  deliberate  intention  on  the  part 
of  the  authors.  It  undoubtedly  had  a universal  interest,  and 
supported  the  glory  of  Spain  at  a time  when  her  external  power 
was  on  the  wane  and  her  arms  were  justly  suffering  defeat.  The 
influence  of  Spanish  culture  rivalled  that  of  the  Italian  in  the 
sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  precisely  at  a time  when 
half  Europe  entertained  a natural  hostility  towards  the  defenders 
of  the  old  religion. 

The  highest  development  of  the  English  national  spirit  may, 
for  the  sake  of  brevity,  be  designated  by  five  names  : Bacon, 
Shakespeare,  Milton,  Newton,  and  Penn.  These  five  names  have 
nothing  to  do  with  the  demands  and  pretensions  of  exclusive 
nationalism.  They  stand  for  what  is  of  importance  and  value  to 
all  mankind,  and  express  the  common  debt  of  humanity  to  England. 
The  men  who  created  the  national  greatness  of  England  never 
thought  of  nationalism  as  such.  One  was  concerned  with  the 
true  knowledge  of  nature  and  of  man,  and  was  occupied  with  the 
problem  of  a new  and  better  scientific  method  ; another  sought 
artistically  to  represent  the  human  soul,  human  passions,  characters 


THE  NATIONAL  QUESTION  293 

and  destinies,  and  did  not  hesitate  to  borrow  his  subjects  from 
foreign  literature  and  transfer  the  place  of  action  to  foreign 
countries.  The  great  leaders  of  the  Puritan  movement,  who  found 
their  prophet  in  Milton,  thought  above  all  things  of  ordering  life 
in  accordance  with  the  Biblical  ideal,  equally  binding,  in  their 
view,  upon  all  nations.  These  Englishmen  did  not  hesitate  to 
recognise  for  their  own  and  to  carry  beyond  the  ocean  an  ideal 
Hebrew  in  its  first  origin  and  German  in  its  Protestant  form. 
And  the  greatest  representative  of  modern  science  discovered  with 
his  English  intellect  a universal  truth  about  the  physical  world  as 
an  interconnected  whole,  containing,  as  a principle  of  its  unity, 
that  which  he  called  the  c sensorium  of  the  Deity.’ 

A broadly  conceived  world  of  scientific  experience,  open  on 
all  sides  to  the  intellect  ; profound  artistic  humanism  ; high  ideas 
of  religious  and  political  freedom  and  a grand  conception  of  the 
physical  unity  of  the  universe — this  is  what  the  English  nation 
produced  through  her  heroes  and  men  of  genius.  ‘ England  for 
the  English  ’ was  not  enough  for  them  ; they  thought  that  the 
whole  world  was  for  the  English,  and  they  had  a right  to  think  so, 
because  they  themselves  were  for  the  whole  world.  The  wide 
diffusion  of  the  English  race  was  in  close  correlation  with  the 
good  qualities  of  the  national  character.  British  merchants, 
of  course,  always  observed  their  own  interests  ; but  it  is  not 
any  merchants  who  could  succeed  in  colonising  North  America 
and  forming  a new  great  nation  of  it.  For  the  United  States 
were  built  up,  not  by  the  Redskins  or  Negroes,  but  by  English 
people  and  English  political  and  religious  ideas — ideas  of  universal 
significance.  Nor  is  it  any  merchants  who  could  take  firm 
possession  of  India  and  build  a civilised  Australia  on  a perfectly 
virginal  soil.1 

The  culminating  point  in  the  national  history  of  France  is  the 
epoch  of  the  great  Revolution  and  of  the  Napoleonic  wars,  when 

1 Hindus  taught  in  English  schools  begin  to  complain — in  the  English  and  their 
own  newspapers,  after  the  English  style — 'that  the  English  yoke  is  burdensome 
and  to  say  that  their  nation  must  be  united  and  obtain  freedom  for  itself.  Why 
is  it  that  this  had  never  occurred  to  them  before?  The  fact  is  that  they  obtained  ideas, 
such  as  that  of  nationality,  national  spirit,  national  dignity,  patriotism,  solidarity, 
development,  exclusively  from  the  English.  Left  to  themselves  they  had  not  been 
able  to  arrive  at  them  during  the  two  and  a half  thousand  years  of  their  history,  in  spite 
of  their  ancient  wisdom. 


294  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

the  universal  significance  of  that  country  was  most  clearly  apparent. 
The  national  life  was  then  at  its  highest,  not  perhaps  from  the 
point  of  view  of  its  content,  but  of  its  intensity  and  of  the  breadth 
of  external  influence.  No  doubt,  the  rights  of  man  and  of  citizen 
proclaimed  to  all  the  world  proved  to  be  largely  fictitious  ; no 
doubt  the  all-embracing  revolutionary  trinity  — liberty  egalitl , 
fraternitb — was  realised  in  a very  peculiar  fashion.  But  in  any 
case  the  fact  that  the  people  were  carried  away  by  these  universal 
ideas  showed  that  the  spirit  of  narrow  nationalism  was  foreign  to 
them.  Did  France  want  to  be  ‘for  the  French’  only  when  she 
surrendered  herself  to  a half-Italian  in  order  that  he  should  direct 
her  powers  and  sweep  away  in  the  whole  of  Europe  the  old  order 
of  things,  introducing  everywhere  the  principles  of  civic  equality, 
religious  and  political  freedom  ? Apart  from  this  epoch,  indeed, 
France  was  always  noted  for  a special  kind  of  universal  receptivity 
and  communicativeness,  by  a power  and  a desire  to  grasp  the  ideas 
of  others,  give  them  a finished  and  popular  form,  and  then  to  send 
them  forth  into  the  world.  This  power  makes  the  history  of 
France  a vivid  and  emphatic  r£sum£  of  universal  history,  and  is 
too  obvious  and  too  well  known  to  dwell  upon. 

Having  first  shown  the  greatness  of  her  national  spirit  in  the 
Reformation,  Germany  has  in  modern  times  (from  the  middle 
of  the  eighteenth  to  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century) 
occupied  the  foremost  place  in  the  domain  of  higher  culture, 
intellectual  and  aesthetic — the  place  which  Italy  had  held  at  the 
end  of  mediaeval  and  at  the  beginning  of  modern  history.  The 
universal  character  and  significance  of  the  Reformation,  of  the 
poetry  of  Goethe,  of  the  philosophy  of  Kant  or  Hegel,  stands 
in  no  need  of  proof  or  demonstration.  I will  only  observe  that 
for  Germany,  as  for  Italy,  the  period  of  the  highest  development 
of  the  spiritual  forces  of  the  nation  coincided  with  the  period  of 
political  weakness  and  disruption. 

The  broad  idealism  of  the  Polish  spirit,  receptive  of  foreign 
influences  to  the  point  of  enthusiasm  and  devotion,  is  only 
too  obvious.  The  universalism  of  the  Poles  caused  the  narrow 
nationalists  to  reproach  them  of  ‘ treason  to  the  cause  of  the 
Slavs.’  But  those  who  are  familiar  with  the  shining  lights  of 
Polish  thought — Mickiewicz,  Krasinski,  Tovianski,  Slowacki — 
know  how  greatly  the  power  of  the  national  genius  showed 


THE  NATIONAL  QUESTION  295 

itself  in  their  universalistic  work.  As  to  our  own  country,  the 
Russian  spirit  has  hitherto  found  no  embodiment  more  vivid  and 
powerful  than  the  Tsar,  whose  powerful  arm  has  demolished  our 
national  exclusiveness  for  ever,  and  the  poet  who  had  a special 
gift  to  identify  himself  with  the  genius  of  other  nations  and  yet 
remain  wholly  Russian.1  Peter  the  Great  and  Pushkin — these 
two  names  are  sufficient  to  prove  that  the  dignity  of  our  national 
spirit  found  its  realisation  only  in  unreserved  communion  with 
the  rest  of  humanity,  and  not  apart  from  it. 

Without  enumerating  all  the  other  nations,  I will  only  mention 
Holland  and  Sweden.  The  national  glory  and  prosperity  of  the 
first  were  due  to  her  struggle  for  the  faith  against  Spanish 
despotism.  As  a consequence  of  it,  the  little  country  did  not  shut 
itself  up  in  its  dearly  bought  independence,  but  became  the  abode 
of  free  thought  for  all  Europe.  Sweden  manifested  hei  national 
greatness  when,  under  Gustavus  Adolphus,  she  devoted  herself  to 
the  service  of  the  common  cause  of  religious  freedom  against  the 
policy  of  compulsory  uniformity. 


V 

The  history  of  all  nations  which  have  had  a direct  influence 
upon  the  destinies  of  humanity  in  ancient  and  modern  times 
teaches  one  and  the  same  thing.  At  the  period  when  their  powers 
were  unfolded  to  the  utmost,  they  took  the  greatness  and  the 
value  of  their  nationality  to  lie  not  in  itself  taken  in  the  abstract, 
but  in  something  universal,  supernational  that  they  believed  in, 
that  they  served  and  that  they  realised  in  their  creative  work — a 
work  national  in  its  origin  and  means  of  expression,  but  wholly 
universal  in  its  content  and  in  its  objective  result.  Nations  live 
and  act  not  for  their  own  sakes,  nor  for  the  sake  of  their  material 
interests,  but  of  their  idea,  i.e.  for  the  sake  of  what  is  most 
important  to  them  and  can  be  of  service  to  the  world  as  a whole — 
they  live  not  for  themselves  only,  but  for  all.  That  which  a nation 
believes  in  and  does  in  faith  it  is  bound  to  regard  as  unconditionally 
good— not  as  its  own  good,  but  as  good  in  itself  and  therefoie  as 

1 The  well-known  remark  of  Dostoevsky,  who  at  his  best  was  himself  equally  all- 
embracing. 


296  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

good  for  all  ; and  such  it  generally  proves  to  be.  Historical 
representatives  of  a nation  may  wrongly  understand  this  or  that 
aspect  of  a nationally-universal  idea  which  they  serve,  and  then 
their  service  is  bad  and  fruitless.  Philip  II.  and  the  Duke  of 
Alba  had  a very  wrong  idea  of  ecclesiastical  unity,  and  the  Paris 
Convention  understood  the  idea  of  human  rights  no  better.  But 
the  bad  understanding  passes  away  and  the  idea  remains,  and,  if 
it  is  really  rooted  in  the  soul  of  a people,  it  finds  new  and  better 
expression  free  from  the  old  imperfections. 

The  creative  work  of  a nation,  i.e.  that  which  a nation  con- 
cretely realises  in  the  world,  is  universal  ; the  object  of  true  national 
self-consciousness  is  universal  also.  A nation  is  not  aware  of  itself 
in  the  abstract,  as  of  an  empty  subject  separate  from  the  content 
and  the  meaning  of  its  life.  It  is  conscious  of  itself  in  relation  to 
that  which  it  does  and  wants  to  do,  in  relation  to  what  it  believes 
in  and  what  it  serves. 

It  is  clear  from  history  that  a nation  does  not  regard  itself, 
taken  in  the  abstract,  as  the  purpose  of  its  life.  In  other  words, 
it  does  not  set  an  absolute  value  upon  its  material  interest  apart 
from  its  supreme  ideal  condition.  But  if  this  be  so,  the  individual 
too  has  no  right  in  his  love  for  his  nation  to  separate  it  from  the 
meaning  of  its  existence  and  to  put  the  service  of  its  material 
advantages  above  the  demands  of  morality.  A nation  in  and 
through  its  true  creative  work  and  self-consciousness  affirms  itself 
in  the  universal — in  that  which  is  of  value  for  every  one  and  in 
which  all  are  united.  How  then  can  a true  patriot,  for  the  sake  of 
a supposed  ‘advantage’  to  his  nation,  destroy  its  solidarity  with 
other  nations,  and  despise  or  hate  foreigners  ? A nation  finds  its 
true  good  in  the  common  good  ; how  then  can  a patriot  take  the 
good  of  his  nation  to  be  something  distinct  from  and  opposed  to 
everything  else  ? It  will  clearly  not  be  the  ideal  moral  good 
which  the  nation  itself  desires,  and  the  supposed  patriot  will 
prove  to  be  opposed  not  to  other  nations  but  to  his  own  in  its  best 
aspirations.  National  hostility  and  opposition  no  doubt  exist,  just 
as  cannibalism  once  existed  everywhere  ; they  exist  as  a zoological 
fact,  condemned  by  the  best  consciousness  of  the  peoples  themselves. 
Made  into  an  abstract  principle  this  zoological  fact  hangs  over 
the  life  of  nations,  obscuring  its  significance  and  destroying 
its  inspiration  — for  the  significance  and  the  inspiration  of  the 


THE  NATIONAL  QUESTION  297 

particular  is  only  to  be  found  in  its  connection  and  harmony  with  the 
universal. 

As  against  false  patriotism  or  nationalism,  which  supports  the 
predominance  of  the  animal  instincts  of  a people  over  its  higher 
national  self-consciousness,  cosmopolitanism  is  right  in  demanding 
that  the  moral  law  shall  be  unconditionally  applied  to  all,  apart 
from  all  difference  of  nationality.  But  it  is  the  moral  principle 
itself  which,  when  consistently  worked  out,  prevents  us  from  being 
satisfied  with  the  negative  demand  of  cosmopolitanism. 

Let  it  be  granted  that  the  immediate  object  of  the  moral 
relation  is  the  individual  person.  But  one  of  the  essential  peculiari- 
ties of  that  person  — direct  continuation  and  expansion  of  his 
individual  character — is  his  nationality  (in  the  positive  sense  of 
character,  type,  and  creative  power).  This  is  not  merely  a 
physical,  but  also  a psychical  and  moral  fact.  At  the  stage 
of  development  now  reached  by  humanity  the  fact  of  belong- 
ing to  a given  nationality  is  to  a certain  extent  confirmed 
by  the  individual’s  self-conscious  will.  Thus  nationality  is  an 
inner,  inseparable  property  of  the  person- — is  something  very  dear 
and  close  to  him.  It  is  impossible  to  stand  in  a moral  relation 
to  this  person  without  recognising  the  existence  of  what  is  so 
important  to  him.  The  moral  principle  does  not  allow  us  to 
transform  a concrete  person,  a living  man  with  his  inseparable 
and  essential  national  characteristics  into  an  empty  abstract  subject 
with  all  his  determining  peculiarities  left  out.  If  we  are  to 
recognise  the  inner  dignity  of  this  particular  man  this  obligation 
extends  to  all  positive  characteristics  with  which  he  connects  his 
dignity  ; if  we  love  a man  we  must  love  his  nation  which  he  loves 
and  from  which  he  does  not  separate  himself.  The  highest  moral 
ideal  demands  that  we  should  love  all  men  as  we  love  ourselves.  But 
since  men  do  not  exist  outside  of  nations  (just  as  nations  do  not 
exist  apart  from  individual  men),  and  since  this  connection  has 
already  become  moral  and  inward  as  well  as  physical,  the  direct 
logical  deduction  is  that  we  must  love  all  nations  as  we  love  our  own. 
This  commandment  affirms  patriotism  as  a natural  and  fundamental 
feeling,  as  a direct  duty  of  the  individual  to  the  collective  whole 
immediately  above  him,  and  at  the  same  time  it  frees  that  feeling 
from  the  zoological  properties  of  national  egoism  or  nationalism, 
and  makes  it  the  basis  of  and  the  standard  for  a positive  relation 


298  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

to  all  other  nations  in  accordance  with  the  absolute  and  all- 
embracing  principle  of  morality.  The  significance  of  this  demand 
of  loving  other  nations  does  not  in  any  way  depend  upon  the 
metaphysical  question  as  to  whether  nations  are  independent 
collective  entities.  Even  if  a nation  exists  only  in  its  visible  indi- 
vidual representatives,  at  any  rate  in  them  it  constitutes  a positive 
peculiarity  which  one  may  value  and  love  in  foreigners  just  as 
much  as  in  men  belonging  to  our  own  people.  If  such  a relation 
actually  becomes  a rule,  national  differences  will  be  preserved  and 
even  intensified,  while  hostile  divisions  and  aggressiveness,  that  are 
so  fundamental  an  obstacle  to  the  moral  organisation  of  humanity, 
will  disappear. 

The  demand  to  love  other  nations  as  our  own  does  not  at  all 
imply  a psychological  identity  of  feeling,  but  only  an  ethical  identity 
of  conduct.  I must  desire  the  true  good  of  all  other  nations 
as  much  as  that  of  my  own.  This  ‘love  of  benevolence’  is 
identical  if  only  because  the  true  good  is  one  and  indivisible.  Such 
ethical  love  involves,  of  course,  a psychological  understanding  and 
approval  of  the  positive  characteristics  of  other  nations.  Once  the 
senseless  and  ignorant  national  hostility  has  been  overcome  by 
the  moral  will,  we  begin  to  know  and  to  value  other  nations — we 
begin  to  like  them.  This  ‘approving  love,’  however,  can  never 
be  identical  with  the  love  we  feel  for  our  own  people,  just  as  the 
sincerest  love  to  our  neighbours  (according  to  the  commandment 
of  the  Gospel)  can  never  be  psychologically  identical  with  the  love 
for  oneself,  although  it  is  ethically  equivalent  to  it.  One’s  own 
self  just  as  one's  own  nation,  always  retains  the  priority  of  a starting- 
point.  When  this  difficulty  is  cleared  away,  no  serious  objections 
can  be  raised  against  the  principle:  love  all  other  nations  as  your  own.1 

1 I cannot  regard  as  serious  the  objection  made  by  one  of  my  critics  that  it  is 
impossible  to  love  one’s  own  and  other  nations  equally,  because  in  war  it  is  necessary  to 
fight  for  one’s  own  people  against  the  others.  I would  have  thought  it  obvious  that 
the  moral  norm  of  international  relations  must  be  deduced  from  some  other  fact  than  that 
of  war.  Otherwise  we  might  be  driven  to  take  as  the  norm  for  personal  relations  such 
facts  as,  e.g.,  a furious  fight  between  an  actor  and  a Government  clerk,  which  recently 
engaged  the  attention  of  the  newspapers. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  PENAL  QUESTION  FROM  THE  MORAL  POINT  OF  VIEW 

Having  accepted  the  unconditional  principle  of  morality  as  the 
standard  of  all  human  relations  we  shall  find  no  real  inner  difficulty 
in  applying  it  to  international  morality,  i.e.  to  the  question  as  to 
how  we  ought  to  regard  foreigners  as  such  ; neither  the  character- 
istics of  this  or  that  people  nor  the  general  fact  of  belonging  to  a 
foreign  nation  contain  any  moral  limitation  in  virtue  of  which  we 
might  a priori  regard  a given  foreigner  as  a worse  man  than  any  of  our 
compatriots.  There  is  therefore  no  moral  ground  for  national  in- 
equality. The  general  demand  of  altruism — to  love  one’s  neighbour 
as  oneself  and  another  nation  as  one’s  own — remains  here  in  full 
force.  The  fact  of  international  hostility  must  be  unconditionally 
condemned  as  directly  opposed  to  the  absolute  norm  and  as  essen- 
tially anti-Christian.1  The  normal  or  the  right  attitude  to  foreign 
nations  is  directly  demanded  by  the  unconditional  principle  of 
morality.  Its  application  involves  great  practical  difficulties,  both 
historical  and  psychological,  but  it  does  not  give  rise  to  any  inner 
moral  difficulties,  complications,  or  questions.  Such  difficulties 
arise  when  instead  of  the  morally  indifferent  fact  of  nationality 
we  have  to  deal  with  a fact  which  undoubtedly  belongs  to  the 
moral  sphere,  namely,  that  of  criminality. 

The  connotation  and  the  denotation  of  this  idea  vary  with 
regard  to  detail  according  to  time  and  place.  Much  that  was 
formerly  regarded  as  criminal  is  no  longer  recognised  as  such. 
The  very  fact  of  criminality  which  had  once  extended  to  the 

1 The  question  of  war  is  historically  connected  with  the  fact  of  international  hostility 
but  is  not  exhausted  thereby.  Apart  from  international  wars  there  have  been,  and  may 
be  in  the  future,  intestine  wars — social  and  religious.  The  problem  of  war  must  be 
considered  separately,  and  one  of  the  subsequent  chapters  will  be  devoted  to  it. 

299 


300  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


criminal’s  family  and  relatives  is,  at  a certain  stage  of  spiritual 
development,  recognised  as  exclusively  a personal  characteristic. 
But  these  historical  changes  do  not  affect  the  nature  of  the  case. 
Apart  from  the  supposed  criminals  of  different  kinds,  in  all  human 
societies  there  have  always  been  and  to  the  end  of  the  world  there 
will  be  real  criminals,  he.  men  with  an  evil  will  sufficiently  strong 
and  decided  to  be  directly  realised  in  practice  to  the  detriment  of 
their  neighbours  and  the  danger  of  the  community  as  a whole. 
How  then  are  we  to  regard  these  avowedly  bad  people  ? It  is 
clear  that  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  absolute  moral  principle 
the  demands  of  altruism  which  received  their  final  expression  in 
the  Christian  commandments  of  love  must  extend  to  these  men 
too.  But  the  question,  in  the  first  place,  is  how  we  are  to 
combine  love  for  the  evil-doer  with  love  for  his  victim,  and 
secondly,  what  should  be  the  practical  expression  of  our  love  for 
the  evil-doer  or  criminal  so  long  as  he  is  in  this  obviously  abnormal 
moral  condition.  No  one  can  avoid  this  moral  question.  Even  if 
a person  never  came  into  personal  contact  with  unquestionable 
crimes  and  criminals,  as  a member  of  society  he  must  know  that 
there  exists  a very  complex  administrative,  legal  and  penal  organi- 
sation intended  for  dealing  with  crime.  He  must,  therefore,  in 
any  case,  determine  his  moral  relation  to  these  institutions — and 
this  in  the  last  resort  depends  on  his  attitude  to  crime  and  the 
criminal.  What  ought  this  attitude  to  be  from  the  purely  moral 
point  of  view  ? In  dealing  with  this  important  question,  I will 
begin  with  the  simplest  case,  which  lies  at  the  basis  of  all  further 
complications. 


I 

When  one  man  is  doing  injury  to  another,  e.g.  when  the 
stronger  man  is  beating  the  weaker,  a person  witnessing  the 
injury — if  he  takes  the  moral  point  of  view — experiences  a double 
feeling  and  an  impulse  to  a twofold  course  of  action.  In  the 
first  place,  he  wants  to  defend  the  victim , and  in  the  second,  to 
bring  the  injur er  to  his  senses.  Both  impulses  have  the  same  moral 
source — the  recognition  of  another  person’s  life  and  the  respect 
for  another  person’s  dignity,  psychologically  based  upon  the  feeling 
of  pity  or  compassion.  We  experience  direct  pity  for  the  being 


THE  PENAL  QUESTION  301 

who  undergoes  physical  and  mental  suffering  ; the  mental  suffer- 
ing, of  which  he  is  more  or  less  clearly  conscious,  consists  in  the 
fact  that  human  dignity  has  been  violated  in  his  person.  Such 
external  violation  of  human  dignity  in  the  injured  is  inevitably 
connected  with  the  inward  degradation  of  that  dignity  in  the 
injurer  ; in  both  cases  it  demands  to  be  re-established.  Psycho- 
logically, our  feeling  for  the  victim  is  very  different  from  our 
feeling  for  the  aggressor — the  first  is  pure  pity,  and  in  the  second 
anger  and  moral  indignation  predominate.  But  to  be  moral,  that 
indignation  must  not  pass  into  injustice  towards  the  wrong-doer, 
into  denying  his  human  right,  although  that  right  materially 
differs  from  the  right  of  the  victim.  The  latter  has  a right  to 
our  defence,  the  former  has  a right  to  be  brought  to  reason  by  us. 
The  moral  basis  of  the  two  relations  is,  however,  in  the  case  of 
rational  beings,  one  and  the  same — the  absolute  worth  or  dignity 
of  human  personality,  which  we  recognise  in  others  as  well  as  in 
ourselves.  The  twofold  violation  of  that  dignity  taking  place  in 
criminal  assault — violation  passive  in  the  injured  and  active  in  the 
injurer — calls  forth  a moral  reaction  in  us,  which  is  essentially  the 
same  in  both  cases,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  its  psychological 
expression  is  different  and  even  opposed.  Of  course,  when  the 
injury  directly  or  indirectly  causes  physical  pain  to  the  victim,  the 
latter  excites  a more  strong  and  immediate  feeling  of  pity  ; but 
speaking  generally,  the  injurer  ought  to  rouse  even  greater  pity, 
for  he  inwardly  loses  his  moral  dignity.  However  this  may  be, 
the  moral  principle  demands  that  we  should  recognise  the  right  of 
both  to  our  help  in  re-establishing  the  violated  norm  both  in  the 
one  and  in  the  other. 

This  deduction  from  the  moral  principle,  demanding  that  in 
the  case  of  crime,  i.e.  of  injury  to  man  by  man,  we  should  take 
up  a moral  attitude  to  both  parties,  is  far  from  being  universally 
recognised.  It  must  be  defended  against  two  kinds  of  adversaries. 
Some — and  they  are  in  the  majority — -recognise  only  the  right  of 
the  victim  or  of  the  injured  person  (or  community)  to  be  defended 
and  avenged.  The  wrong-doer  or  the  criminal,  once  his  guilt  has 
been  proved,  they  regard,  at  any  rate  in  practice,  as  a rightless, 
passive  object  of  retribution,  i.e.  of  more  or  less  complete  crushing 
or  extermination — ‘ hanging  is  too  good  for  him,’  ‘ to  the  dog  a 
dog’s  death,’  is  the  popular  sincere  expression  of  this  point  of  view. 


302  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

Its  direct  opposition  to  the  moral  principle  and  its  incompati- 
bility with  any  degree  of  developed  human  feeling1  explains  and 
psychologically  excuses  the  extreme  opposite  view,  which  is 
beginning  to  gain  ground  in  our  time.  This  view  recognises  the 
right  of  the  injurer  to  be  brought  to  reason  by  means  of  verbal 
persuasion  only,  and  admits  of  no  compulsion  with  regard  to  him — 
which  practically  amounts  to  depriving  the  injured  person  or 
society  of  their  right  to  defence.  Their  safety  is  made  to  depend 
upon  the  success  of  persuasion,  i.e.  on  something  quite  problematical, 
which  no  one  can  control  or  be  held  responsible  for.  Let  us 
carefully  consider  the  two  opposed  doctrines,  which,  for  the  sake 
of  brevity,  I will  describe  respectively  as  the  doctrine  of  retribution 
and  the  doctrine  of  verbal  persuasion. 

II 

The  doctrine  of  retribution  admits  of  a very  real  explanation 
and  of  fictitious  proof,  and  when  dealing  with  it,  it  is  very  im- 
portant not  to  mix  the  one  with  the  other.  When  an  animal 
is  attacked  by  another  about  to  devour  it,  the  instinct  of  self- 
preservation  urges  it  to  defend  itself  with  its  claws  and  teeth,  or, 
if  these  are  not  strong  enough,  to  seek  safety  in  flight.  No  one 
would  look  for  moral  motives  in  this  case  any  more  than  in  the 
physical  self-defence  of  man,  whose  natural  means  of  defence  are 
replaced  or  supplemented  by  artificial  weapons.  Even  the  savage, 
however,  does  not  as  a rule  live  by  himself,  but  belongs  to  some 
social  group — a family,  a clan,  a band.  Therefore  when  he 
encounters  an  enemy  the  affair  does  not  end  with  their  single 
combat.  Murder  or  any  other  injury  inflicted  upon  a member  of 
a group  is  felt  by  the  group  as  a whole  and  rouses  in  it  a feeling 
of  resentment.  In  so  far  as  that  feeling  includes  pity  for  the 
victim,  we  must  recognise  the  presence  of  a moral  element  in  it. 
But  no  doubt  the  predominant  part  is  played  by  the  instinct  of 
collective  self-preservation,  like  among  bees  and  other  social 
animals.  In  defending  one  of  its  members,  the  clan  or  the  family 
is  defending  itself ; in  avenging  one  of  its  members,  it  is  aveng- 
ing itself.  But  for  the  same  reasons  the  aggressor  too  is  defended 

1 This  is  shown,  among  other  things,  by  the  fact  that  among  the  people,  at  any  rate 
among  the  Russian  people,  criminals  are  called  the  unfortunate. 


THE  PENAL  QUESTION  303 

by  his  clan  or  family.  Single  combats  thus  develop  into  wars 
between  entire  communities.  The  Homeric  poems  have  preserved 
for  us  this  stage  of  social  relations  by  immortalising  the  Trojan 
war,  which  arose  out  of  a private  injury  inflicted  by  Paris  upon 
Menelaus.  The  history  of  the  Arabs  before  Mohammed  is  full 
of  such  wars.  The  ideas  of  crime  and  punishment  do  not  really 
exist  at  this  stage  at  all  ; the  injurer  is  an  enemy  to  be  revenged 
upon,  not  a criminal  to  be  punished.  The  place  which  later  on  is 
occupied  by  legal  justice  is  here  entirely  taken  up  by  the  uni- 
versally recognised  and  absolutely  binding  custom  of  blood- 
vengeance.  This  custom  applies,  of  course,  to  injuries  between 
members  of  different  clans  or  tribes.  But,  speaking  generally, 
other  kind  of  injuries  are  not  found  at  this  stage  of  the  communal 
life.  The  cohesion  of  the  social  group  bound  together  by  kinship 
is  too  strong,  and  the  prestige  of  the  patriarchal  power  too  great, 
for  the  individual  to  rebel  against  it.  It  is  almost  as  impossible 
as  the  conflict  of  an  individual  bee  with  the  rest  of  the  hive.  No 
doubt  even  at  the  primitive  stage  man  retained  his  power  of 
arbitrary  choice  and  did  in  some  few  instances  manifest  it.  But 
these  exceptional  cases  were  dealt  with  by  exceptional  measures 
on  the  part  of  the  patriarchal  authority,  and  did  not  call  forth  any 
general  regulations.  Things  were  changed  with  the  transition  to 
the  order  of  the  state.  When  many  clans  and  tribes  for  any 
reason  chose  or  were  compelled  to  unite  in  one  way  or  another 
under  one  common  leader  with  a more  or  less  definite  power 
they  lost  their  independence  and  forfeited  the  right  of  blood- 
vengeance. 

It  is  curious  that  philosophers  and  jurists,  from  ancient  times 
and  almost  down  to  our  own  day,  made  a priori  theories  with 
regard  to  the  origin  of  the  state,  as  though  all  actual  states  had 
arisen  in  some  remote  prehistoric  times.  This  is  due,  of  course, 
to  the  extremely  imperfect  state  of  historical  science.  But  what 
may  be  permissible  to  Hobbes  and  even  to  Rousseau  cannot  be 
allowed  on  the  part  of  modern  thinkers.  The  kinship-group  stage 
through  which  all  nations  have  passed  in  one  way  or  another  is 
not  anything  enigmatic  : the  clan  is  a direct  consequence  of  the 
natural  blood-tie.  The  question  is,  then,  as  to  the  transition  from 
the  stage  of  kinship  to  that  of  the  state — and  this  can  be  an  object  of 
historical  observation.  It  is  sufficient  to  mention  the  transformation 


304  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


which  took  place  in  quite  historical  times  of  the  disconnected 
tribes  and  clans  of  Northern  Arabia  into  a powerful  Mohammedan 
state.  Its  theocratic  character  is  not  an  exception  : such  were  to 
a greater  or  lesser  extent  all  the  important  states  of  antiquity. 
Consider  the  way  in  which  a state  comes  to  be  formed.  A leader, 
military  or  religious,  or  most  frequently  both,  impelled  by  the 
consciousness  of  his  historic  calling  and  also  by  personal  motives, 
gathers  round  himself  men  from  different  clans  and  tribes,  thus 
forming  an  inter-tribal  nucleus.  Around  this  nucleus  entire 
clans  and  tribes  come  to  be  grouped  voluntarily  or  by  compulsion, 
receiving  from  the  newly  formed  supreme  power  laws  and 
government,  and  to  a greater  or  lesser  extent  losing  their  inde- 
pendence. When  a social  group  has  a government  organised  on 
the  principle  of  hierarchy  with  a supreme  central  authority  at 
the  head,  a regular  army,  a financial  system  based  upon  taxa- 
tion, and  laws  accompanied  by  penal  sanctions,  such  a group 
has  the  essential  characteristics  of  a state.  All  the  characteristics 
enumerated  were  present  in  the  Mohammedan  community  during 
the  later  years  of  Mohammed’s  life.  It  is  remarkable  that  the 
history  of  the  original  formation  of  this  state  confirms  to  a certain 
extent  the  ‘ social  contract  ’ theory.  All  the  chief  actions  of 
the  Arab  prophet  in  this  connection  have  been  signalised  by 
formal  treaties,  beginning  with  the  so-called  ‘oath  of  women,’ 
and  ending  with  the  conditions  he  dictated  at  Mecca  after  his 

final  victory  over  the  tribe  of  the  Koreishites  and  their  allies.  It 

should  be  noted,  too,  that  the  fundamental  point  of  all  these  treaties 
is  the  abolition  of  blood-vengeance  between  the  tribes  and  clans 
which  are  to  enter  the  new  political  union. 

Hence  arises  the  distinction,  which  did  not  exist  before, 
between  private  and  public  right.  With  regard  to  blood-vengeance 
and  other  important  matters,  the  interests  of  the  collective 
group  were  identical  with  the  interests  of  the  individual.  This 
was  all  the  more  natural  as  in  a small  social  group  such  as  the 

clan  or  the  tribe  all,  or  at  any  rate  most,  of  its  members  could 

know  each  other  personally,  and  thus  each  was  for  all,  and  all  for 
each — a concrete  unit.  In  the  state,  however,  the  social  group 
embraces  hundreds  of  thousands  or  even  millions  of  men,  and 
the  concrete  personal  relation  between  the  parts  and  the  whole 
becomes  impossible.  A clear  distinction  is  drawn  between 


THE  PENAL  QUESTION 


3 °5 


private  and  public  interests  and  between  the  corresponding 
rights.  In  opposition  to  our  modern  legal  notions,  at  that  stage 
murder,  robbery,  bodily  injuries,  etc.,  are  treated  as  the  violations 
of  private  rights.  Formerly,  at  the  kinship-group  stage,  all  such 
crimes  were  regarded  as  directly  affecting  the  interests  of  the  com- 
munity, and  the  whole  clan  retaliated  upon  the  culprit  and  his 
kinsmen.  When  a wider  political  union  was  formed,  this  right 
and  duty  of  blood-vengeance  was  taken  away  from  the  clan,  but  did 
not  pass,  unchanged,  to  the  state.  The  new  common  authority, 
the  source  of  government  and  of  law,  could  not  at  once  enter  into 
the  interests  of  all  its  numerous  subjects  to  such  an  extent  as  to 
defend  them  like  its  own.  The  head  of  the  state  cannot  act  and 
feel  like  the  elder  of  a clan.  And  we  find  that  with  regard  to 
the  defence  of  private  persons  and  property  the  state  is  at  first 
content  with  very  little.  For  bodily  injury  or  other  violence  to  a 
free  man,  and  even  for  the  murder  of  one,  the  culprit  or  his 
relatives  pay  to  the  family  of  the  victim  compensation  in  money, 
the  amount  of  which  is  settled  by  mutual  agreement  (composition 
and  is  generally  very  moderate.  Ancient  law-codes,  e.g.  the  laws 
of  the  Salic  Francs,  or  our  own  Russkaya  Pravda , which  are 
relics  of  a primitive  political  order,  are  full  of  the  enumerations 
of  fines  differing  according  to  the  sex  of  the  person  and  to  other 
circumstances.  The  direct  and  rapid  transition  from  merciless 
blood-vengeance,  often  accompanied  by  long  and  devastating  wars 
between  entire  tribes,  to  simple  money  compensation  is  remark- 
able ; but  from  the  point  of  view  indicated  it  is  perfectly  natural. 

At  this  stage  of  social  development  the  only  capital  offences 
are,  strictly  speaking,  political  crimes  j1  all  other,  murder  included, 
are  regarded  as  private  quarrels  rather  than  crimes. 

Such  elementary  opposition  between  public  and  private 
rights  could  not  be  stable.  Money-fine  for  every  kind  of  injury 
to  a private  person  does  not  satisfy  the  injured  party  (e.g.  the 
family  of  the  murdered  man),  nor  does  it  deter  the  wrong-doer, 
especially  if  he  be  rich,  from  committing  further  crimes.  Under 
such  conditions  blood-vengeance  for  private  offences,  abolished  by 

1 The  denotation  of  this  idea  differed  in  accordance  with  the  historical  circum- 
stances. In  the  Middle  Ages,  when  the  capital  character  of  simple  murder  was  not 
yet  clear  to  the  legal  consciousness,  coining  false  money  was  punished  by  painful  death, 
as  a crime  detrimental  to  society  as  a whole,  infringing  upon  the  privileges  of  the 
central  authority  and,  in  this  sense,  political. 


X 


306  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

the  state  as  opposed  to  its  very  conception,  is  renewed  de  facto 
and  threatens  to  destroy  the  raison  d'etre  of  the  state  : if  each  has 
to  avenge  his  own  wrongs,  why  should  he  bear  the  hardships 
imposed  by  the  new  political  order  ? To  justify  the  demands 
that  private  persons  make  upon  it,  the  state  must  really  take 
upon  itself  to  protect  their  interests  ; in  order  to  abolish  the 
private  right  of  blood-vengeance,  the  state  must  make  it  a public 
right,  i.e.  must  itself  exercise  it.  At  this  new  and  higher 
stage  the  solidarity  of  the  central  power  with  its  individual 
subjects  becomes  more  clear.  The  distinction  between  crimes 
directed  against  the  government  (political  crimes)  and  those  in- 
fringing upon  private  interests  only  is  still  retained,  but  it  is 
now  merely  a distinction  of  degree.  Each  free  man  becomes  a 
citizen,  i.e.  a member  of  the  state  which  undertakes  to  protect 
his  safety  ; every  violation  of  it  is  regarded  by  the  state  authority 
as  an  attack  upon  its  own  rights,  as  a hostile  action  against  the 
social  whole.  All  attacks  against  person  and  property  are  re- 
garded as  violations  of  the  law  of  the  state,  and  no  longer  as 
private  offences,  and  are  therefore,  like  political  crimes,  for  the  state 
itself  to  avenge. 


Ill 

The  legal  doctrine  of  retribution  has  then  a historical  founda- 
tion in  the  sense  that  legal  punishments  still  in  use  in  our  day 
are  a historical  transformation  of  the  primitive  principle  of  blood- 
vengeance.  Originally,  the  injured  person  was  avenged  by  a 
more  narrow  social  union  called  the  clan,  then  by  a wider  and 
more  complex  union  called  the  state.  Originally,  the  criminal 
lost  all  human  rights  in  the  eyes  of  the  clan  he  injured  ; now  he 
became  the  rightless  subject  of  punishment  in  the  eyes  of  the 
state,  which  revenges  itself  on  him  for  the  violation  of  its  laws. 
The  difference  consists  chiefly  in  the  fact  that  at  the  patriarchal 
stage  the  act  of  vengeance  itself  was  accomplished  very  simply — 
the  aggressor  was,  at  the  first  opportunity,  killed  like  a dog — but 
the  consequences  were  very  complex,  and  took  the  form  of 
endless  inter-tribal  wars.  In  the  state,  on  the  contrary,  the  act 
of  vengeance,  which  the  public  authorities  took  upon  themselves, 
was  performed  slowly  and  with  all  sorts  of  ceremonies,  but  no 


THE  PENAL  QUESTION  307 

further  complications  ensued,  for  the  criminal  had  no  one 
sufficiently  strong  to  avenge  him— he  was  defenceless  before  the 
power  of  the  state. 

But  can  the  unquestionable  fact  that  legal  executions  are 
a historical  transformation  of  blood- vengeance  be  used  as  an 
argument  in  favour  of  the  executions  themselves,  or  in  favour  of 
the  principle  of  retaliation  ? Does  this  historical  basis  justify 
us  in  determining  our  attitude  towards  the  criminal  by  the  idea  of 
vengeance,  the  idea,  i.e.,  of  paying  evil  for  evil,  pain  for  pain  ? 
Speaking  generally,  logic  does  not  allow  us  to  make  such  deduc- 
tions from  the  genetic  connection  between  two  events.  Not  a 
single  Darwinian,  so  far  as  I am  aware,  drew  the  conclusion  that 
because  man  is  descended  from  the  lower  animals  he  ought  to  be 
a brute.  From  the  fact  that  the  urban  community  of  Rome  had 
been  originally  established  by  a band  of  robbers,  no  historian 
has  yet  concluded  that  the  true  principle  of  the  Holy  Roman 
Empire  ought  to  have  been  brigandage.  With  regard  to  the 
question  before  us,  it  is  clear  that  since  we  are  dealing  with  the 
evolution  of  blood-vengeance  there  is  no  reason  to  regard  this 
evolution  as  completed.  We  know  that  the  relation  of  society 
and  of  law  to  the  criminal  has  undergone  great  changes.  Pitiless 
blood-vengeance  was  replaced  by  money-fines,  and  these  were 
replaced  by  ‘civil  executions,’  extremely  cruel  at  first,  but, 
beginning  with  the  eighteenth  century,  getting  more  and  more 
mild.  There  is  not  the  slightest  rational  ground  to  suppose 
that  the  limit  of  mercy  has  already  been  reached  and  that  the 
gallows  and  the  guillotine,  penal  servitude  for  life,  and  solitary 
confinement  must  for  ever  remain  in  the  penal  code  of  civilised 
countries. 

But  while  historical  progress  clearly  tends  to  eliminate  the 
principle  of  vengeance  or  of  exact  retaliation  from  our  treatment 
of  criminals,  and  finally  to  abolish  it  altogether,  many  philosophers 
and  jurists  still  continue  to  urge  abstract  arguments  in  defence  of 
it.  These  arguments  are  so  feeble  that  no  doubt  they  will  be 
an  object  of  astonishment  and  ridicule  to  posterity,  just  as 
Aristotle’s  arguments  in  favour  of  slavery,  or  the  ecclesiastical 
proofs  of  the  flatness  of  the  earth,  are  a source  of  wonder  to  us 
now.  The  pseudo-arguments  used  by  the  champions  of  the 
doctrine  of  retribution  are  not  in  themselves  worth  considering. 


3o8  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

But  since  they  are  still  repeated  by  authors  worthy  of  respect, 
and  since  the  subject  is  of  vital  importance,  the  refutation  of  them 
ought  also  to  be  repeated. 

“Crime  is  a violation  of  right  ; right  must  be  re-established  ; 
punishment,  i.e.  equal  violation  of  the  criminal’s  right,  performed 
in  accordance  with  a definite  law  by  public  authority  (in  contra- 
distinction to  private  vengeance),  balances  the  first  violation,  and 
thus  right  is  re-established.”  This  pseudo-argument  turns  on 
the  term  ‘ right.’  But  concrete  right  is  always  somebody's  right 
(there  must  be  a subject  of  rights).  Whose  right  is  then  here 
referred  to  ? In  the  first  place,  apparently,  it  is  the  right  of  the 
injured  person.  Let  us  put  this  concrete  content  in  the  place 
of  the  abstract  term.  Peaceful  shepherd  Abel  has  no  doubt  a 

right  to  exist  and  to  enjoy  all  the  good  things  of  life  ; but  a 

wicked  man,  Cain,  comes  and  deprives  him  of  this  right  by 
murdering  him.  The  violated  right  must  be  re-established  ; 
to  do  so  public  authority  comes  on  the  scene  and,  against 
the  direct  warning  of  Holy  Writ  (Genesis  iv.  15),  hangs  the 
murderer.  Well,  does  this  re-establish  Abel’s  right  to  live  ? 

Since  no  one  but  an  inmate  of  Bedlam  would  affirm  that  the 

execution  of  the  murderer  raises  the  victim  from  the  dead,  we 
must  take  the  word  ‘right’  in  this  connection  to  mean,  not 
the  right  of  the  injured  person,  but  of  somebody  else.  The 
society  or  the  state  1 may  be  the  subject  of  the  right  violated  by 
the  crime.  All  private  rights  (of  life,  of  property,  etc.)  are 
guaranteed  by  the  state  ; it  answers  for  their  inviolability  in 
placing  them  under  the  defence  of  its  laws.  The  law  forbidding 
private  persons  to  take  the  life  of  their  fellow-citizens  at  their 
own  discretion  is  proclaimed  by  the  state  in  its  own  right,  and 
therefore  the  violation  of  the  law  (a  murder)  means  violation  of 
the  right  of  the  state.  The  execution  of  the  murderer  re- 
establishes the  right  of  the  state  and  the  dignity  of  the  law — 
not  the  right  of  the  murdered  man.2 

1 In  this  connection  either  term  may  be  used  indifferently. 

2 In  the  opinion  of  one  of  my  critics,  I am  wrong  in  supposing  that  a crime  must 
necessarily  be  the  violation  of  somebody’s  right.  Apart  from  any  subject  of  rights — 
individual  or  collective,  private  or  public — and  also  apart  from  the  moral  norm  or  the 
absolute  good,  there  exists,  it  is  urged,  right  as  such, — an  independent  objective  essence, 
and  the  proper  object  of  punishment  is  the  satisfaction  of  this  self-existent  right.  The 
critic  is  mistaken  in  thinking  that  I am  ignorant  of  this  metaphysical  impersonation  of 


THE  PENAL  QUESTION  309 

What  justice  this  argument  contains  has  nothing  to  do  with 
the  case.  There  is  no  doubt  that  once  laws  exist,  their  viola- 
tion must  not  be  overlooked,  and  that  it  is  the  business  of  the 
state  to  see  to  it.  But  we  are  not  dealing  here  with  the  general 
question  of  the  punishability  of  crime,  for  in  this  respect  all  crimes 
are  identical.  If  a law  is  sacred  in  itself  as  proceeding  from  the 
state,  this  is  true  of  all  laws  in  an  equal  degree.  They  all  equally 
express  the  right  of  the  state  ; and  the  violation  of  any  law  what- 
ever is  the  violation  of  this  supreme  right.  Material  differences 
between  crimes  have  to  do  with  the  particular  interests  which 
are  infringed  ; but  on  its  formal  side,  in  relation  to  what  is 
universal , that  is  to  the  state  as  such , and  to  its  law  and  power, 
every  crime,  if,  of  course,  it  is  committed  by  a responsible  agent, 
presupposes  a will  opposed  to  the  law,  a will  that  sets  it  at  nought 
and  is  therefore  criminal — and  from  this  point  of  view  all  crimes 
ought  logically  to  require  the  same  punishment.  But  the 
difference  in  punishments  for  the  different  crimes  exists  in  all 
legal  codes,  and  it  obviously  presupposes,  in  addition  to  the  general 
principle  of  punishability,  a certain  other  specific  principle  which 
determines  the  particular  connection  between  this  crime  and  this 
punishment.  The  doctrine  of  retribution  discovers  this  connection 
in  the  fact  that  the  right  violated  by  a particular  criminal  action 
is  re-established  by  a corresponding  or  equal  action — for  instance, 
a murderer  must  be  killed.  There  can,  however,  be  no  real 
correspondence  or  equality.  The  most  famous  champions  of  the 
doctrine  conceive  of  the  matter  as  follows  : Right  is  something 

positive,  say  a + (plus)  ; the  violation  of  it  is  something  negative, 
- (a  minus).  If  the  negation  in  the  form  of  crime  has  taken  place 
{e.g.  a man  has  been  deprived  of  life),  it  must  call  forth  equal 
negation  in  the  form  of  punishment  (taking  the  murderer’s  life). 
Then  such  double  negation,  or  the  negation  of  the  negative,  will 
once  more  bring  about  a positive  state,  i.e.  re-establish  the  right  : 
?ninus  multiplied  by  minus  makes  plus.  It  is  difficult  to  take  this 
c play  of  mind  ’ seriously  ; it  should  be  noted,  however,  that  the  idea 

the  ancient  Moloch.  But  there  is  no  need  for  me  to  go  into  it,  since  no  serious  crimino- 
logist has  for  a long  time  past  upheld  it.  It  is  obvious  that  ‘ right  ’ is  by  its  very 
meaning  a relation  between  subjects,  conditioned  by  certain  moral  and  practical  norms, 
and  that  therefore  a subjectless  and  unrelated  right  is  an  Unding — a thought  that  has 
no  content. 


310  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

of  the  negation  of  the  negative  logically  expresses  a direct  inner 
relation  between  two  opposed  acts.  Thus,  for  instance,  if  an 
impulse  of  ill-will  in  man  is  ‘negative,’  is,  namely,  a negation 
of  the  moral  norm,  the  opposite  act  of  will,  suppressing  that 
impulse,  will  indeed  be  a ‘negation  of  the  negative,’  and  the 
result  will  be  a positive  one— man’s  affirmation  of  himself  as 
normal.  Similarly,  if  crime  as  an  active  expression  of  ill-will  is 
negative,  the  criminal’s  active  repentance  will  be  a negation  of  the 
negative  (that  is,  not  of  the  fact,  of  course,  but  of  the  inner  cause 
that  produced  it),  and  the  result  will  again  be  positive — his  moral 
regeneration.  But  the  execution  of  the  criminal  has  obviously 
no  such  significance  ; in  this  case  the  negation  is  directed,  as  in 
the  crime  itself,  upon  something  positive — upon  human  life.  It 
cannot  indeed  be  maintained  that  the  execution  of  the  criminal 
negates  his  crime,  for  that  crime  is  an  irrevocably  accomplished 
fact,  and,  according  to  the  remark  of  the  Fathers  of  the  Church, 
God  Himself  cannot  undo  what  has  been  done.  Nor  does  it 
negate  the  criminal’s  evil  will,  for  the  criminal  has  either  repented 
of  his  crime — and  in  that  case  there  is  no  longer  any  evil  will — 
or  he  remains  obdurate  to  the  end,  and  then  his  will  is  inaccessible 
to  the  treatment  he  is  receiving  ; and  in  any  case  an  external 
enforced  action  can  neither  cancel  nor  change  the  inner  state 
of  will.  What,  then,  is  negated  by  the  execution  of  the 
criminal  is  not  his  evil  will,  but  the  positive  good  of  life, — and 
this  is  once  more  a simple  negation,  and  not  a ‘negation  of  the 
negative.’  But  a simple  succession  of  two  negatives  cannot  lead 
to  anything  positive.  The  misuse  of  the  algebraic  formula  makes 
the  argument  simply  ridiculous.  In  order  that  two  minuses,  that 
is,  two  negative  quantities,  should  make  a plus,  it  is  not  sufficient 
to  place  them  one  after  another,  but  it  is  necessary  to  multiply  one 
by  the  other.  But  there  is  no  intelligible  meaning  in  multiplying 
crime  by  punishment } 

IV 

The  inherent  absurdity  of  the  doctrine  of  retribution  or 
‘avenging  justice’  is  emphasised  by  the  fact  that,  with  a few 

1 It  is  obvious  that  we  cannot  in  this  case  go  further  than  addition  (of  the  material 
results).  The  corpse  of  the  murdered  victim  may  be  added  to  the  corpse  of  the  hanged 
murderer  and  then  there  will  be  two  corpses — i.e.  two  negative  quantities. 


THE  PENAL  QUESTION  31 1 

exceptions,  it  has  no  relation  whatever  to  the  existing  penal  laws. 
Strictly  speaking,  there  is  only  one  case  in  which  it  appears  to  be 
applicable — that  of  the  death  penalty  for  murder.  Therefore  the 
pseudo-philosophical  arguments  in  favour  of  this  doctrine,  the  gist 
of  which  has  been  considered  above,  refer  to  this  single  instance 
only — a bad  omen  for  a principle  which  lays  claim  to  universal 
significance.  In  Russia,  where  capital  punishment  is  the  penalty 
for  certain  political  crimes  only,  there  is  not  even  this  one  case  of 
apparent  correspondence.  No  trace  of  equality  between  crime 
and  punishment  can  be  detected  in  the  case  of  parricide  and  penal 
servitude  for  life,  or  simple  murder  with  a view  to  robbery  and 
twelve  years’  penal  servitude.  The  best  argument  against  the 
doctrine  is  the  circumstance  that  it  finds  its  fullest  application  in 
the  penal  codes  of  some  half-savage  peoples,  or  in  the  laws  pre- 
valent at  the  epoch  of  barbarism,  when,  e.g.,  for  inflicting  a 
certain  injury  the  culprit  underwent  a similar  injury,  for  speaking 
insolent  words  a person  had  his  tongue  cut  out,  etc.  A prin- 
ciple the  application  of  which  proves  to  be  incompatible  with  a 
certain  degree  of  culture  and  refinement  is  condemned  by  the 
verdict  of  history. 

In  modern  times  the  doctrine  of  re-establishing  right  by  means 
of  equal  retribution  was,  if  I am  not  mistaken,  defended  by 
abstract  philosophers  more  than  by  jurists.  The  latter  under- 
stand the  equalisation  of  crime  with  punishment  in  the  relative 
and  quantitative  sense  only  (the  measure  of  punishment).  They 
demand,  i.e .,  that  a crime  more  grave  than  another  should  be 
punished  more  severely,  so  that  there  should  be  a scale  of  punish- 
ments corresponding  to  the  scale  of  crimes.  But  the  basis  and, 
consequently,  the  apex  of  the  penal  ladder  remains  indefinite,  and 
therefore  the  punishments  may  be  either  inhumanly  cruel  or 
extremely  mild.  Such  a scale  of  penalties  has  existed  in  the 
penal  codes  in  which  all,  or  almost  all,  simple  crimes  were 
punished  by  a fine  : a larger  fine  was  paid  for  the  murder  of  a 
man  than  for  the  murder  of  a woman,  for  a serious  bodily  injury 
than  for  a slight  one,  etc.  On  the  other  hand,  codes  in  which 
the  penalty  for  theft  was  hanging  punished  more  heinous  crimes 
by  capital  punishment  accompanied  by  various  degrees  of  torture. 
What  is  in  this  case  immoral  is  the  cruelty  of  the  punishments, 
and  not,  of  course,  their  graduated  character. 


312  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

From  the  moral  point  of  view  it  is  of  interest  that  the  penal 
laws  show  a tendency  to  preserve  the  cruel  punishments  as  far  as 
possible.  This  tendency  has  no  doubt  become  weaker,  but  it  has 
not  yet  disappeared  altogether.  Not  finding  a sufficiently  secure 
foundation  in  the  pseudo-rational  principle  of  ‘re-established  right,’ 
it  seeks  empirical  support  in  the  principle  of  intimidation.  In 
truth,  the  latter  has  always  formed  part  of  the  doctrine  of  retribu- 
tion. The  popular  aphorism,  ‘ To  a dog  a dog’s  death,’  has  always 
been  accompanied  by  the  addition,  ‘ as  a warning  to  others.’ 

This  principle  can  hardly  be  said  to  be  wholly  valid  even  from 
the  utilitarian  and  empirical  point  of  view.  No  doubt  fear  is  an 
important  human  instinct,  but  it  has  no  decisive  significance  for 
man.  The  perpetually  increasing  number  of  suicides  proves  that, 
in  many,  death  itself  inspires  no  fear.  Prolonged  solitary  con- 
finement or  penal  servitude  may  in  themselves  be  more  terrible 
but  they  do  not  produce  an  immediate  intimidating  effect.  I 
will  not  dwell  upon  these  and  other  well-known  arguments  against 
the  theory  of  intimidation,  such  as  the  contention  that  the 
criminal  always  hopes  to  avoid  detection  and  escape  punishment, 
or  that  the  enormous  majority  of  crimes  are  committed  under  the 
influence  of  some  passion  which  stifles  the  voice  of  sagacity. 
The  relative  force  of  all  these  arguments  is  open  to  dispute.  In- 
disputable refutation  of  the  deterrent  theory  is  only  possible  from 
the  moral  point  of  view.  It  is  refuted,  first,  on  the  ground  of 
principle,  as  directly  opposed  to  the  fundamental  law  of  morality, 
and,  secondly,  by  the  fact  that  this  opposition  compels  the 
champions  of  intimidation  to  be,  inconsistent  and  gradually  to 
relinquish,  on  the  strength  of  moral  motives,  the  most  clear  and 
effective  demands  of  their  own  theory.  It  is  understood,  of 
course,  that  I am  referring  here  to  intimidation  as  a fundamental 
principle  of  legal  justice  and  not  merely  as  a psychological  fact, 
which  naturally  accompanies  any  method  of  dealing  with  crime. 
Even  supposing  it  were  intended  to  reform  criminals  by  means  of 
moral  exhortation  alone,  the  prospect  of  such  tutelage,  however 
mild  and  rational,  might  intimidate  vain  and  self-willed  men  and 
deter  them  from  criminal  actions.  Obviously,  however,  this  is 
not  what  is  meant  by  the  theory  which  regards  intimidation  as 
the  essence  and  the  direct  object  of  punishment,  and  not  as  an 
indirect  consequence  of  it. 


THE  PENAL  QUESTION  313 

The  moral  principle  asserts  that  human  dignity  must  be 
respected  in  every  person,  and  that  therefore  no  one  may  be  made 
merely  a means  of  or  an  instrument  for  the  advantage  of  others. 
According  to  the  deterrent  theory,  however,  the  criminal  who  is 
being  punished  is  regarded  as  merely  a means  for  intimidating 
others  and  safeguarding  public  safety.  The  penal  law  may,  of 
course,  intend  to  benefit  the  criminal  himself,  by  deterring  him, 
through  fear  of  punishment,  from  committing  the  crime.  But  once 
the  crime  has  been  committed,  this  motive  obviously  disappears, 
and  the  criminal  in  being  punished  becomes  solely  a means  of  intimi- 
dating others,  i.e.  a means  to  an  end  external  to  him;  and  this  is  in 
direct  contradiction  to  the  unconditional  law  of  morality.  From 
the  moral  point  of  view  a punishment  inspiring  fear  would  only 
be  permissible  as  a threat  ; but  a threat  which  is  never  fulfilled 
loses  its  meaning.  Thus,  the  principle  of  penal  intimidation  can 
be  moral  only  on  condition  of  being  useless,  and  can  be  materially 
useful  only  on  condition  of  being  applied  immorally. 

In  point  of  fact  the  theory  of  intimidation  finally  lost  its 
sting  from  the  time  when  all  civilised  and  half-civilised  countries 
abolished  cruel  corporal  punishments  and  capital  punishment 
accompanied  by  torture.  It  is  clear  that  if  the  object  of  punish- 
ment is  to  intimidate  both  the  criminal  and  others,  these  means 
are  certainly  the  most  effective  and  rational.  Why  then  do  the 
champions  of  intirrfidation  renounce  the  true  and  the  only  reliable 
means  of  intimidation  ? Probably  because  they  consider  these 
means  immoral  and  opposed  to  the  demands  of  pity  and  humanity. 
In  that  case,  however,  intimidation  ceases  to  be  the  determining 
factor  in  punishment.  It  must  be  one  or  the  other  : either  the 
meaning  of  punishment  is  intimidation— and  in  that  case  execution 
accompanied  by  torture  must  be  admitted  as  pre-eminently  in- 
timidating ; or  the  nature  of  punishment  is  determined  by  the 
moral  principle — and  in  that  case  intimidation  must  be  given  up 
altogether,  as  a motive  essentially  immoral.1 

1 In  the  eighteenth  century,  when  the  movement  against  the  cruelty  of  penal  laws  was 
at  its  height,  several  writers  sought  to  prove  that  torturing  prisoners  is  both  inhuman 
and  useless  as  a deterrent,  for  it  does  not  prevent  any  one  from  committing  crimes.  If 
this  contention  could  be  substantiated  it  would  deprive  the  theory  of  intimidation  of 
all  meaning  whatever.  It  is  obvious  that  if  even  painful  executions  are  insufficient  to 
intimidate  criminals,  punishments  more  mild  are  still  less  likely  to  do  so. 


3H  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


V 

The  circumstance  that  the  most  consistent  forms  of  retribution 
and  intimidation  have  disappeared  from  modern  penal  codes,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  from  the  first  point  of  view  such  forms  must 
be  recognised  as  the  most  just,  and  from  the  second  as  the  most 
effective,  is  sufficient  to  prove  that  a different,  a moral  point  of 
view  has  penetrated  into  this  sphere  and  made  considerable  pro- 
gress in  it.  This  undoubted  and  fairly  rapid  progress  has  failed 
to  affect  the  penal  codes  of  savage  or  barbarian  peoples  alone — 
such  as  the  Abyssinians  or  the  Chinese  ; and  even  they,  indeed, 
are  about  to  enter  into  the  general  life  of  civilised  humanity. 
Nevertheless,  our  own  penal  systems — I mean  those  of  Europe 
and  America — still  retain  much  unnecessary  violence  and  cruelty, 
which  can  only  be  explained  as  a dead  legacy  of  the  defunct 
principles  of  retribution  and  intimidation.  Among  these  vestiges 
of  the  past  are  capital  punishment,  which  is  still  being  obstinately 
defended  though  it  has  lost  its  grounds  ; indefinite  deprivation  of 
liberty  ; penal  servitude  ; exile  into  distant  countries  with  unbear- 
able conditions  of  life,  etc. 

All  this  systematic  cruelty  is  revolting  to  the  moral  feeling 
and  brings  about  a change  in  our  original  attitude  towards  the 
criminal.  Pity  to  the  injured  person  and  the  impulse  to  defend 
him  set  us  against  the  injurer  (the  criminal).  But  when  society, 
which  is  incomparably  stronger  than  the  individual  criminal,  turns 
upon  him  its  insatiable  hostility  after  he  has  been  disarmed,  and 
makes  him  undergo  prolonged  suffering,  it  is  he  who  becomes 
the  injured  party  and  excites  in  us  pity  and  a desire  to  protect  him. 
Although  the  legal  theory  and  the  legal  practice  have  decidedly 
renounced  consistent  application  of  the  principles  of  retribution  and 
intimidation,  they  have  not  given  up  the  principles  themselves. 
The  system  of  punishments  that  exists  in  civilised  countries  is 
a meaningless  and  lifeless  compromise  between  these  worthless 
principles  on  the  one  hand  and  certain  demands  of  humanity  and 
justice  on  the  other.  In  truth,  what  we  find  are  simply  the  more 
or  less  softened  vestiges  of  the  old  brutality,  with  no  uniting 
thought,  no  guiding  principle  involved.  The  compromise  cannot 


THE  PENAL  QUESTION 


3i5 


help  us  to  solve  the  question  that  is  essential  for  the  moral  con- 
sciousness : does  the  fact  of  crime  deprive  the  criminal  of  his 

human  rights,  or  does  it  not  ? If  it  does  not,  how  can  we  rob 
him  of  the  first  condition  of  any  right — of  existence,  as  is  done  in 
the  case  of  capital  punishment  ? And  if  the  fact  of  crime  does 
deprive  the  criminal  of  his  natural  rights,  what  need  is  there  of 
legal  ceremony  with  rightless  beings  ? Empirically  this  dilemma 
is  solved  by  a distinction  being  drawn  between  crimes,  some  of 
which  are  taken  to  deprive  the  criminal  of  human  rights,  and 
others  merely  to  limit  them  to  a greater  or  lesser  extent.  Both 
the  principle  and  the  degree  of  such  limitation  are,  however, 
changeable  and  indefinite,  and  the  very  distinction  between  the 
two  kinds  of  crime  proves  to  be  arbitrary  and  to  differ  according 
to  time  and  place.  Thus,  for  instance,  in  Western  Europe  political 
crimes  do  not  involve  the  loss  of  human  rights,  while  in  Russia  the 
old  view  is  still  in  full  force,  and  these  crimes  are  regarded  as  the 
most  heinous  of  all.  One  would  have  thought  that  so  important 
a fact  as  the  transformation  of  man  from  an  independent  being 
fully  possessed  of  rights  into  passive  material  for  punitary  exercises 
must  depend  upon  some  objective  reason  or  determining  principle, 
the  same  for  all  times  and  at  all  places.  In  fact,  however,  it 
appears  that  in  order  to  change  from  a person  into  a thing,  man 
must  in  one  country  commit  a simple  murder  ; in  another,  a 
murder  with  aggravating  circumstances ; in  the  third,  some 
political  crime,  etc. 

The  extremely  unsatisfactory  condition  of  this  important 
question,  the  frivolous  attitude  to  the  life  and  destiny  of  men  are 
revolting  to  the  intellect  and  conscience,  and  produce  a reaction 
of  the  moral  feeling.  Unfortunately,  however,  this  reaction 
leads  many  moralists  to  the  opposite  extreme,  and  induces  them 
to  reject  the  idea  of  punishment  in  general,  i.e.  in  the  sense 
of  real  opposition  to  crime.  According  to  this  modern  doctrine, 
violence  or  compulsion  towards  any  one  is  never  permissible,  and 
therefore  the  criminal  may  only  be  dealt  with  by  rational  persua- 
sion. The  merit  of  this  doctrine  is  the  moral  purity  of  its  pur- 
pose ; its  defect  is  that  the  purpose  cannot  be  realised  in  the  way 
advocated.  The  principle  of  taking  up  a passive  attitude  towards 
criminals  not  only  rejects  retribution  and  intimidation  (which  is 
the  right  thing  to  do),  but  also  excludes  measures  intended  to 


3 1 6 THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

prevent  crimes  and  to  improve  criminals.  From  this  point  of 
view  the  state  has  not  the  right  to  lock  up,  even  only  for  a time, 
a vicious  murderer,  though  the  circumstances  of  the  case  make 
it  clear  that  he  will  continue  his  crimes  ; nor  has  it  a right  to 
place  the  criminal  in  a more  normal  environment,  even  if  it 
were  exclusively  for  his  own  good.  Similarly,  it  is  contended 
that  a private  person  has  no  right  forcibly  to  detain  a would-be 
murderer  from  rushing  at  his  victim,  but  may  only  address  him 
with  words  of  exhortation.  In  criticising  the  theory  1 will  con- 
sider this  instance  of  individual  opposition  to  crime,  as  it  is  more 
simple  and  fundamental. 

It  is  only  in  extremely  rare,  exceptional  cases  that  men  who 
are  depraved  and  capable  of  deliberate  crime  are  affected  by  words 
of  rational  persuasion.  To  ascribe  beforehand  such  exceptional 
power  to  one’s  own  words  would  be  morbid  self-conceit  ; to  be 
content  with  words  without  being  certain  of  their  success  when  a 
man’s  life  is  at  stake  would  be  inhuman.  The  victim  has  a right 
to  all  the  help  we  can  render  him,  and  not  to  verbal  intercession 
only,  which,  in  the  vast  majority  of  cases,  can  be  nothing  but 
comical.  In  the  same  way,  the  aggressor  has  a right  to  all  the 
help  we  can  give  to  restrain  him  from  a deed  which  is  for  him 
even  a greater  disaster  than  for  his  victim.  Only  after  having 
stopped  his  action  can  we  with  calm  conscience  address  words  of 
exhortation  to  him.  If  I see  the  criminal’s  arm  raised  to  murder 
his  victim  and  I seize  hold  of  it,  will  this  be  a case  of  immoral 
violence  ? It  will  no  doubt  be  violence,  but  so  far  from  being 
immoral,  it  will  be  conscientiously  binding , and  will  directly  follow 
from  the  demands  of  the  moral  principle.  In  restraining  a man 
from  murder  I actively  respect  and  support  his  human  dignity, 
which  is  seriously  menaced  by  his  carrying  out  his  intention.  It 
would  be  strange  to  believe  that  the  very  fact  of  such  violence — 
i.e.  a certain  contact  of  the  muscles  of  my  arm  with  the  muscles 
of  the  murderer’s  arm,  and  the  necessary  consequences  of  the 
contact — contains  an  element  of  immorality.  Why,  in  that  case 
it  would  be  immoral  to  pull  a drowning  man  out  of  water,  for  it 
too  cannot  be  done  without  much  physical  exertion  and  some 
physical  pain  to  the  person  who  is  being  saved.  If  it  is  per- 
missible and  a moral  duty  to  pull  a drowning  man  out  of  the 
water,  even  if  he  resists,  it  is  all  the  more  permissible  to  pull  a 


THE  PENAL  QUESTION  317 

criminal  away  from  his  victim,  even  if  it  means  bruises,  scratches, 
and  dislocations.1 

It  must  be  one  or  the  other.  Either  the  criminal  whom  we 
restrain  has  not  yet  lost  all  human  feeling,  and  then  he  will,  of 
course,  be  grateful  for  having  been  saved  in  time  from  sin — no  less 
than  the  drowning  man  is  grateful  for  having  been  taken  out  of  the 
water  ; in  that  case,  the  violence  which  he  suffered  was  done  with 
his  own  tacit  consent,  and  his  right  has  not  been  violated,  so  that, 
strictly  speaking,  there  has  been  no  violence  at  all,  since  volenti 
non  jit  injuria .2  Or  the  criminal  has  lost  human  feeling  to  such 
an  extent  that  he  is  annoyed  at  having  been  prevented  from  cut- 
ting his  victim’s  throat.  But  to  address  a man  in  such  a condi- 
tion with  words  of  rational  persuasion  would  be  the  height  of 
absurdity  ; it  would  be  the  same  as  preaching  to  one  who  is  dead- 
drunk  the  advantages  of  abstinence,  instead  of  pouring  cold  water 
over  him. 

Were  the  fact  of  physical  violence,  i.e.  of  the  application  of 
muscular  force,  in  itself  bad  or  immoral,  it  would,  of  course,  be 
wrong  to  use  this  bad  means  even  with  the  best  of  intentions — it 
would  be  admitting  the  immoral  rule  that  the  purpose  justifies  the 
means.  To  resist  evil  by  evil  is  wrong  and  useless  ; to  hate  the 
evil-doer  for  his  crime  and  therefore  to  revenge  oneself  on  him  is 
childish.  But  there  is  no  evil  in  restraining  the  evil-doer  from 
crime  for  the  sake  of  his  own  good  and  without  any  hatred  of 
him.  Since  there  is  nothing  bad  in  muscular  force  as  such,  the 
moral  or  the  immoral  character  of  its  application  depends  in  each 
case  upon  the  intention  of  the  person  and  the  circumstances  of 
the  case.  Physical  force  rationally  used  for  the  real  good  of  others, 
both  moral  and  material,  is  a good  and  not  a bad  means,  and  such 
application  of  it,  so  far  from  being  forbidden,  is  directly  prescribed 
by  the  moral  principle.  The  dividing  line  between  the  moral 
and  immoral  use  of  physical  compulsion  may  be  a fine  one,  but  it 
is  perfectly  clear  and  definite.  The  whole  point  is  the  attitude 

1 What,  however,  if  in  restraining  the  murderer  we  may  in  the  struggle  unintentionally 
cause  him  grave  injuries  and  even  death  ? It  will  be  a great  misfortune  for  us,  and  we 
will  grieve  over  it  as  over  an  involuntary  sin  ; but,  in  any  case,  unintentionally  to  kill  a 
criminal  is  a lesser  sin  than  deliberately  to  allow  an  intentional  murder  of  an  innocent 
person. 

2 ‘There  is  no  injury  to  the  willing,’  i.e.  an  action  which  is  in  accordance  with  the 
will  of  the  person  who  suffers  it  cannot  be  a violation  of  his  right. 


3i8  the  justification  of  the  good 

we  take  towards  the  evil-doer  in  resisting  evil.  If  we  retain  a 
human,  moral  relation  to  him  and  are  thinking  of  his  own  good, 
there  will  obviously  be  nothing  immoral  in  our  enforced  violence — 
no  trace  of  cruelty  or  revenge.  The  violence  will,  in  that  case, 
be  simply  an  inevitable  condition  of  our  helping  the  man,  just 
like  a surgical  operation  or  the  locking  up  of  a dangerous  lunatic. 

The  moral  principle  forbids  to  make  a human  being  merely 
a means  to  extraneous  purposes,  i.e.  to  ends  which  do  not  include 
his  own  good.  If,  therefore,  in  resisting  crime  we  regard  the 
criminal  simply  as  a means  for  the  defence  or  the  satisfaction  of 
the  injured  person  or  society,  our  action  is  immoral,  even  though 
its  motive  might  be  unselfish  pity  for  the  victim  and  genuine 
anxiety  for  public  safety.  From  the  moral  point  of  view  this  is 
not  sufficient.  We  ought  to  pity  both  the  victim  and  the  criminal  ; 
and  if  we  do  so,  if  we  really  have  the  good  of  them  both  in  view, 
reason  and  conscience  will  tell  us  what  measure  and  what  form 
of  physical  compulsion  is  necessary. 

Moral  questions  are  finally  decided  by  conscience,  and  I 
confidently  ask  every  one  to  turn  to  his  own  inner  experience 
(imaginary,  if  there  has  not  been  any  other)  and  say  in  which 
of  the  two  cases  does  conscience  reproach  us  more  : in  the  case 
when,  being  able  to  prevent  a crime  we  had  callously  passed  by, 
saying  a few  useless  words,  or  when  we  had  actually  prevented  it 
even  at  the  expense  of  inflicting  certain  physical  injuries.  Every 
one  understands  that  in  a perfect  society  there  must  be  no  compulsion 
at  all.  But  the  perfection  has  yet  to  be  attained ; and  it  is  quite 
obvious  that  to  let  evil  and  irrational  men  exterminate,  unhindered, 
the  normal  people  is  not  the  right  method  of  creating  the  perfect 
society.  What  is  desirable  is  the  organisation  of  the  good,  and 
not  the  freedom  of  evil.  “ But,”  the  modern  sophists  will  urge, 
“society  has  often  taken  for  evil  what  afterwards  proved  to  be  a 
good,  and  has  persecuted  innocent  men  as  criminals  ; therefore 
legal  justice  is  worth  nothing,  and  all  compulsion  must  be  given 
up.”  This  argument  is  not  my  invention— I have  read  and  heard 
it  many  times.  Reasoning  in  this  way  we  should  have  to  say  that 
the  mistakes  in  the  astronomical  theories  of  Ptolemy  are  a 
sufficient  ground  for  giving  up  astronomy,  and  that  the  errors  of 
the  alchemists  prove  chemistry  to  be  worthless. 

It  is  difficult  to  understand  how  men  of  a different  stamp  from 


THE  PENAL  QUESTION  319 

obvious  sophists  can  defend  so  poor  a doctrine.  The  truth  is,  I 
think,  that  its  real  foundation  is  mystical  and  not  ethical.  The 
idea  underlying  the  doctrine  seems  to  be  this  : “ That  which  seems 
to  us  to  be  evil,  may  not  be  evil  at  all  ; the  Deity  or  Providence 
knows  better  than  we  do  the  true  connection  of  things  and  the 
way  to  produce  real  good  out  of  apparent  evil.  We  can  only  know 
and  judge  our  own  inner  states  and  not  the  objective  signifi- 
cance and  consequences  of  our  own  and  other  people’s  actions.” 
It  must  be  confessed  that  to  a religious  mind  this  view  is 
extremely  attractive  ; nevertheless,  it  is  a mistaken  view.  The 
truth  of  a theory  is  tested  by  the  fact  whether  it  can  be  con- 
sistently carried  out  without  landing  us  in  contradictions  and 
absurdities.  The  view  in  question  cannot  bear  this  test.  If  our 
ignorance  of  all  the  objective  consequences  of  our  own  and  other 
people’s  actions  were  a sufficient  ground  for  remaining  inactive, 
we  ought  not  to  resist  our  own  passions  and  evil  impulses.  For 
aught  we  know,  the  all-merciful  Providence  might  derive 
wonderful  results  from  a person’s  profligacy,  drunkenness,  ill- 
feeling  to  his  neighbours,  etc. 

Suppose,  for  instance,  that  for  motives  of  abstinence  a man 
stayed  away  from  a public-house.  But  had  he  not  resisted  his 
inclination  and  gone,  he  would  on  his  way  back  have  found  a 
half-frozen  puppy.  Being  in  a condition  when  one  is  inclined 
to  be  sentimental,  he  would  have  picked  up  the  puppy  and  warmed 
it  back  to  life.  The  puppy,  upon  growing  up  into  a big  dog,  would 
have  saved  a little  girl  from  drowning  in  the  pond  ; and  the  little 
girl  would  eventually  become  the  mother  of  a great  man.  Now, 
however,  the  misplaced  abstinence  has  interfered  with  the  plans 
of  Providence.  The  puppy  was  frozen,  the  little  girl  drowned, 
and  the  great  man  is  doomed  to  remain  for  ever  unborn.  Another 
person,  given  to  anger,  felt  inclined  to  slap  in  the  face  the  man 
he  was  arguing  with,  but  thought  that  this  would  be  wrong,  and 
restrained  himself.  And  yet,  had  he  not  controlled  his  anger,  the 
injured  person  would  have  taken  the  opportunity  to  turn  him  the 
other  cheek,  and  would  have  thus  softened  the  heart  of  the 
aggressor.  Virtue  would  have  doubly  triumphed,  while,  as  it  was, 
their  meeting  ended  in  nothing. 

The  doctrine  which  absolutely  rejects  all  forcible  resistance  to 
evil,  or  all  defence  of  one’s  neighbours  by  means  of  physical  force, 


320  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


is  really  based  upon  an  argument  of  this  nature.  A man  has 
saved  another’s  life  by  using  force  and  disarming  the  brigand  who 
attacked  him.  But,  later  on,  the  person  saved  became  a terrible 
malefactor,  far  worse  than  the  brigand  ; therefore  it  would  have 
been  better  not  to  have  saved  him.  Exactly  the  same  disappoint- 
ment, however,  might  ensue  if  the  man  were  threatened  by  a 
rabid  wolf  instead  of  by  a brigand.  Does  it  follow,  then,  that 
we  are  not  to  defend  any  one  even  from  wild  beasts  ? Besides, 
when  I save  people  in  a fire  or  in  an  inundation,  it  may  very 
well  happen  that  the  saved  may  subsequently  be  extremely  un- 
happy or  prove  to  be  terrible  scoundrels,  so  that  it  would  have 
been  better  for  them  to  have  been  burnt  or  drowned.  Does  it 
follow  that  one  ought  not  to  help  any  one  in  any  calamity  whatso- 
ever ? Actively  helping  one’s  neighbours  is  a direct  and  positive 
demand  of  morality.  If  we  renounce  the  duty  of  kindness  on  the 
ground  that  actions  inspired  by  that  feeling  may  have  bad  con- 
sequences unknown  to  us,  we  can  just  as  well  for  the  same  reason 
renounce  the  duty  of  abstinence  and  all  others,  because  these,  too, 
may  prompt  us  to  actions  which  may  lead  to  evil  consequences, 
as  in  the  examples  cited  above.  If,  however,  that  which  appears 
to  us  to  be  good  leads  to  evil,  then,  vice  versa , that  which  appears 
to  us  to  be  evil  may  lead  to  good.  Perhaps,  then,  the  best  plan 
would  be  to  do  evil  straight  away  in  order  that  good  might  ensue. 
Fortunately,  this  whole  line  of  thought  is  self-destructive,  for  the 
series  of  unknown  events  may  go  further  than  we  think.  Take 
the  first  instance,  in  which  Mr.  X.,  by  resisting  his  inclination 
for  strong  drink,  indirectly  prevented  the  birth  of  a great  man. 
We  cannot  tell  whether  this  great  man  would  not  have  caused 
great  disasters  to  humanity  ; and  if  he  would,  it  is  just  as  well 
that  he  has  not  been  born  ; therefore  Mr.  X.  did  very  well  in 
making  himself  stay  at  home.  In  the  same  way,  we  do  not 
know  what  further  consequences  might  ensue  from  the  triumph 
of  virtue  due  to  a slap  in  the  face  magnanimously  endured.  It  is 
highly  probable  that  this  extreme  magnanimity  would  eventually 
lead  to  spiritual  pride,  which  is  the  worst  of  all  sins,  and  thus 
ruin  the  man’s  soul.  Therefore  Mr.  Y.  did  well  in  controlling 
his  anger  and  preventing  the  magnanimity  of  his  opponent  from 
showing  itself.  Altogether,  since  we  know  nothing  for  certain, 
we  have  equal  right  to  make  all  sorts  of  suppositions  with  regard 


THE  PENAL  QUESTION 


321 


to  possibilities.  But  it  by  no  means  follows  that  because  we  do 
not  know  what  consequences  our  actions  may  lead  to,  we 
ought  to  refrain  from  all  action.  This  conclusion  would  only 
be  correct  if  we  knew  for  certain  that  the  consequences  would 
be  bad.  Since,  however,  they  may  equally  be  good  or  bad, 
we  have  equal  ground  (or,  rather,  equal  absence  of  ground)  for 
action  or  inaction.  All  these  reflections  on  the  indirect  results  of 
our  actions  can  then  have  no  practical  significance.  They  could 
be  a real  determining  force  in  our  life  only  if  we  could  know 
more  than  the  immediate  links  in  the  series  of  consequences. 
The  immediate  links  may  be  always  supposed  to  be  followed  by 
further  links  of  an  opposite  character  and  destructive  of  our  con- 
clusion. It  would  therefore  be  necessary  to  know  the  whole  series 
of  consequences  down  to  the  end  of  the  world,  which  is  impossible 
for  us. 

Our  actions  or  refusal  to  act  must  then  be  determined,  not  by 
the  consideration  of  their  possible  indirect  consequences  unknown 
to  us,  but  by  impulses  directly  following  from  the  positive  demands 
of  the  moral  principle.  This  is  true  not  only  from  the  ethical 
but  also  from  the  mystical  point  of  view.  If  everything  be  referred 
back  to  Providence,  it  is  certainly  not  without  Its  knowledge  that 
man  possesses  reason  and  conscience,  which  tell  him  in  each 
concrete  case  what  direct  good  he  can  do,  independently  of  all 
indirect  consequences.  And  if  we  believe  in  Providence,  we 
certainly  believe  also  that  It  cannot  allow  that  actions  conformable 
to  reason  and  conscience  should  ultimately  lead  to  evil.  If  we 
know  that  it  is  immoral  or  opposed  to  human  dignity  to  stupefy 
oneself  with  strong  drink,  our  conscience  will  not  permit  us  to 
consider  whether  in  the  state  of  intoxication  we  might  not  do 
something  which  would  subsequently  lead  to  good  results. 
Similarly,  if  from  a purely  moral  motive,  apart  from  any  malice  or 
revenge,  we  prevented  a brigand  from  killing  a man,  it  will 
never  occur  to  us  to  argue  that  this  may  perhaps  lead  to  some  evil, 
and  that  it  might  have  been  better  to  let  the  murder  take  place. 

Through  our  reason  and  conscience  we  know  for  certain  that 
carnal  passions — drunkenness  or  profligacy — are  bad  in  themselves 
and  ought  to  be  restrained.  The  same  reason  and  conscience  tell 
us  with  equal  certainty  that  active  love  is  good  in  itself  and  that 
one  must  act  in  the  spirit  of  it — to  help  our  neighbours,  to  defend 

Y 


322  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

them  from  the  elements,  from  wild  beasts,  and  also  from  men 
who  are  evil  or  insane.  Therefore  the  man  who  from  a pure 
impulse  of  pity  snatches  away  the  knife  from  a would-be 
murderer’s  hand  and  thus  saves  him  from  an  extra  sin  and  his 
victim  from  a violent  death,  or  the  man  who  uses  physical 
violence  to  prevent  a patient  ill  with  delirium  tremens  from  freely 
running  about  the  streets,  will  always  be  justified  by  his  own  con- 
science and  by  the  universal  verdict  of  humanity  as  one  who 
carried  out  in  practice  the  moral  demand  : Help  all  as  much  as  in 
thee  lies. 

Providence  certainly  extracts  good  from  our  evil,  but  from 
our  good  it  derives  a still  greater  good.  And  what  is  of  especial 
importance  is  that  this  second  kind  of  good  comes  about  with 
our  direct  and  active  participation,  while  the  first,  that  derived 
from  our  evil,  does  not  concern  us  nor  belong  to  us.  It  is  better 
to  be  a helper  than  a dead  instrument  of  the  all- merciful 
Providence. 


VI 

Punishment  as  intimidating  revenge  (the  typical  instance  of 
which  is  capital  punishment)  cannot  from  the  moral  point  of  view 
be  justified,  for  it  denies  the  criminal  his  human  character,  deprives 
him  of  the  right  of  existence  which  belongs  to  every  person,  and 
makes  him  a passive  instrument  of  other  people’s  safety.  No 
more,  however,  can  we  justify  from  the  moral  point  of  view  an 
indifferent  attitude  to  crime,  the  attitude  of  not  resisting  it.  It 
does  not  take  into  account  the  right  of  the  injured  party  to  be 
protected  nor  the  right  of  the  whole  society  to  a secure  existence, 
and  makes  everything  depend  upon  the  arbitrary  will  of  the  worst 
people.  The  moral  principle  demands  real  resistance  to  crimes, 
and  determines  this  resistance  (or  punishment  in  the  wide  sense  of 
the  term,  as  distinct  from  the  idea  of  retribution)  as  a rightful 
means  of  active  pity , legally  and  forcibly  limiting  the  external  expres- 
sions of  evil  will,  not  merely  for  the  sake  of  the  safety  of  the  peaceful 
members  of  society , but  also  in  the  interests  of  the  criminal  himself 
Thus  the  true  conception  of  punishment  is  many-sided,  but 
each  aspect  is  equally  conditioned  by  the  universal  moral 
principle  of  pity,  which  includes  both  the  injured  and  the 


THE  PENAL  QUESTION  323 

injurer.  The  victim  of  a crime  has  a right  to  protection  and, 
as  far  as  possible,  to  compensation  ; society  has  a right  to  safety  ; 
the  criminal  has  a right  to  correction  and  reformation.  Resistance 
to  crimes  that  is  to  be  consistent  with  the  moral  principle  must 
realise  or,  at  any  rate,  aim  at  an  equal  realisation  of  those  three 
rights. 

Protection  of  individuals,  public  safety,  and  the  subsequent  good 
of  the  criminal,  demand  in  the  first  place  that  the  person  guilty  of 
a crime  should  be  for  a time  deprived  of  liberty.  In  the  interests 
of  his  relatives  and  his  own,  a spendthrift  is  rightly  deprived  of 
freedom  in  the  administration  of  his  property.  It  is  all  the  more 
just  and  necessary  that  a murderer  or  a seducer  should  be  deprived 
of  freedom  in  his  line  of  activity.  For  the  criminal  himself 
deprivation  of  freedom  is  especially  important  as  a pause  in  the 
development  of  the  evil  will,  as  an  opportunity  to  bethink  himself 
and  repent. 

At  the  present  time,  the  criminal’s  fate  is  finally  decided  by  the 
court,  which  both  determines  his  guilt  and  decrees  his  punishment. 
If,  however,  the  motives  of  revenge  and  intimidation  are  consistently 
banished  from  penal  law,  the  conception  of  punishment  as  of  a 
measure  determined  beforehand  and,  in  truth,  arbitrarily , must 
disappear  also.  The  consequences  of  the  crime  for  the  criminal 
must  stand  in  a natural  and  inner  relation  with  his  real  condition. 
The  law  court,  having  established  the  fact  of  guilt,  must  then 
determine  its  nature,  the  degree  of  the  criminal’s  responsibility  and 
of  his  further  danger  to  society,  that  is,  it  must  make  a diagnosis 
and  a prognosis  of  the  moral  disease.  But  it  is  opposed  to  reason  to 
prescribe  unconditionally  the  means  and  the  length  of  the  period  of 
treatment.  The  course  and  the  methods  of  treatment  must  differ 
according  to  the  changes  in  the  course  of  the  illness,  and  the  court 
must  leave  this  to  penitentiary  institutions,  into  the  hands  of  which 
the  criminal  should  pass.  A short  time  ago  this  idea  would  have 
been  thought  an  unheard-of  heresy,  but  of  late  attempts  have  been 
made  to  realise  it  in  a few  countries  [e.g.  in  Belgium  and  Ireland), 
in  which  conditional  sentences  may  be  passed.  In  certain  cases  the 
criminal  is  sentenced  to  a definite  punishment,  but  undergoes  it 
only  if  he  repeats  his  crime.  If  he  does  not,  he  remains  free,  and  his 
first  crime  is  regarded  as  accidental.  In  other  cases,  the  sentence 
is  conditional  with  regard  to  the  length  of  imprisonment,  which 


324  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

may  be  shortened  according  to  the  subsequent  behaviour  of  the 
criminal.  From  the  point  of  view  of  principle  these  conditional 
sentences  are  an  advance  of  enormous  importance. 

VII 

There  had  been  a time  when  men  suffering  from  mental  disease 
were  treated  like  wild  beasts,  chained,  beaten,  etc.  Less  than  a 
hundred  years  ago  it  was  considered  to  be  the  right  thing  ; but 
now  we  remember  it  with  horror.  Since  the  rate  of  progress  is 
continually  increasing,  I hope  to  live  to  a time  when  prisons  and 
penal  servitude  of  the  present  day  will  be  looked  upon  in  the  same 
way  as  we  now  look  upon  the  old-fashioned  asylums  with  iron 
cages  for  the  patients.  Although  the  penal  system  has  undoubtedly 
progressed  of  late,  it  is  still  largely  determined  by  the  old  idea  of 
punishment  as  torment  deliberately  inflicted  on  the  criminal,  in 
accordance  with  the  principle,  ‘ The  thief  deserves  all  he  gets.’ 

In  the  true  conception  of  punishment  its  positive  end,  so  far  as 
the  criminal  is  concerned,  is  not  to  cause  him  physical  pain,  but  to 
heal  or  reform  him  morally.  This  idea  has  been  accepted  long 
ago  (chiefly  by  theologians,  partly  by  philosophers,  and  by  a very 
few  jurists),  but  it  calls  forth  strong  opposition  on  the  part  of 
jurists  and  of  a certain  school  of  anthropologists.  From  the  legal 
side  it  is  urged  that  to  correct  the  criminal  means  to  intrude  upon 
his  inner  life,  which  the  state  and  society  have  no  right  to  do. 
There  are  two  misconceptions  involved  here.  In  the  first  place, 
the  task  of  reforming  criminals  is,  in  the  respect  we  are  here  con- 
sidering, merely  an  instance  of  the  positive  influence  which  the 
society  (or  the  state)  ought  to  exert  upon  such  members  of  it  as 
are  in  some  respects  deficient,  and  therefore  not  fully  possessed  of 
rights.  If  such  influence  is  rejected  on  principle  as  intrusion  into 
the  individual’s  inner  life,  it  will  be  necessary  to  reject  also  public 
education  of  children,  treatment  of  lunatics  in  public  asylums,  etc. 

And  in  what  sense  can  it  be  said  to  be  an  intrusion  into  the 
inner  world  ? In  truth,  by  the  fact  of  his  crime  the  criminal  has 
bared  or  exposed  his  inner  world,  and  is  in  need  of  influence  in  the 
opposite  direction  which  would  enable  him  once  more  to  withdraw 
into  the  normal  boundaries.  It  is  particularly  surprising  that 
although  the  argument  recognises  the  right  of  society  to  put  a 


THE  PENAL  QUESTION  325 

man  into  demoralising  conditions  (such  as  our  present  prisons  and 
penal  servitude,  which  the  jurists  do  not  reject),  it  denies  the  right 
and  the  duty  of  society  to  put  him  into  conditions  that  might 
render  him  moral. 

The  second  misunderstanding  consists  in  imagining  that 
reformation  of  the  criminal  means  forcing  upon  him  ready-made 
principles  of  morality.  But  why  regard  incompetence  as  a 
principle  ? When  a criminal  is  capable  of  reformation  at  all,  it 
consists,  of  course,  chiefly  in  self-reformation.  External  influences 
must  simply  put  the  man  into  conditions  most  favourable  for  it, 
help  him  and  support  him  in  this  inner  work. 

The  anthropological  argument  is  that  criminal  tendencies  are 
innate  and  therefore  incorrigible.  That  there  exist  born  criminals 
and  hereditary  criminals,  there  is  no  doubt.  That  some  of  them 
are  incorrigible  it  is  difficult  to  deny.  But  the  statement  that  all 
criminals  or  even  the  majority  of  them  are  incorrigible  is  absolutely 
arbitrary  and  does  not  deserve  to  be  dwelt  upon.  If,  however,  all 
we  may  admit  is  that  some  criminals  are  incorrigible,  no  one  can  or 
has  a right  to  be  certain  beforehand  that  this  particular  criminal 
belongs  to  that  group.  All  therefore  ought  to  be  put  into  con- 
ditions most  favourable  for  possible  reformation.  The  first  and 
the  most  important  condition  is,  of  course,  that  at  the  head  of  penal 
institutions  should  stand  men  capable  of  so  high  and  difficult  a 
task — the  best  of  jurists,  alienists,  and  men  with  a religious  calling. 

Public  guardianship  over  the  criminal,  entrusted  to  competent 
persons  with  a view  to  his  possible  reformation, — this  is  the  only 
conception  of  ‘ punishment  ’ or  positive  resistance  to  crime 
compatible  with  the  moral  principle.  A penal  system  based  upon 
it  will  be  more  just  and  humane  than  the  present  one,  and  will,  at 
the  same  time,  be  certainly  more  efficient. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION  FROM  THE  MORAL  POINT  OF  VIEW 

I 

If  individuals  and  nations  learnt  to  value  the  national  peculiarities 
of  foreign  peoples  as  much  as  they  value  their  own  ; if  within 
each  nation  individual  criminals  were,  as  far  as  possible,  reformed 
by  re-education  and  rational  guardianship,  from  which  all 
vestige  of  legal  ferocity  were  eliminated, — this  moral  solution 
of  the  national  and  the  penal  questions  would  still  leave 
untouched  an  important  cause  both  of  national  hostility  and  of 
criminality,  namely,  the  economic  cause.  The  chief  reason 
why  Americans  hate  the  Chinese  is  certainly  not  that  the 
Chinese  wear  plaits  and  follow  the  moral  teaching  of  Confucius, 
but  that  they  are  dangerous  rivals  in  the  economic  sphere. 
Chinese  labourers  in  California  are  persecuted  for  the  same 
cause  for  which  Italians  are  ill-treated  in  southern  France, 
Switzerland,  and  Brazil.  In  exactly  the  same  way  the  feeling 
against  the  Jews,  whatever  the  inmost  causes  of  it  may  be, 
clearly  rests  upon  and  is  obviously  due  to  economic  considera- 
tions. Individual  criminality  is  not  created  by  environment,  but 
it  is  largely  kept  up  and  encouraged  by  pauperism,  excessive 
mechanical  labour,  and  the  inevitable  coarsening  that  follows 
therefrom.  The  influence  of  the  most  rational  and  humane 
penal  system  upon  individual  criminals  would  have  but  little 
general  effect  so  long  as  these  conditions  prevailed.  The  bad 
effect  of  the  economic  conditions  of  the  present  day  upon  the 
national  and  the  criminal  questions  is  obviously  due  to  the  fact 
that  these  conditions  are  in  themselves  morally  wrong.  Their 
abnormality  is  manifested  in  the  economic  sphere  itself,  since 

326 


THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION  327 

the  struggle  between  the  different  classes  of  society  for  the 
possession  of  material  goods  is  becoming  more  and  more  acute, 
and  in  many  countries  of  Western  Europe  and  America 
threatens  to  become  a deadly  strife. 

For  a man  who  takes  the  moral  point  of  view  it  is  as  im- 
possible to  take  part  in  this  socially-economic  struggle  as  to 
participate  in  the  hostility  between  races  and  nations.  But 
at  the  same  time  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  remain  indifferent 
to  the  material  position  of  his  neighbours.  If  the  elementary 
moral  feeling  of  pity,  which  has  received  its  highest  sanction 
in  the  Gospel,  demands  that  we  should  feed  the  hungry, 
give  drink  to  the  thirsty,  and  warm  the  cold,  this  demand 
does  not,  of  course,  lose  its  force  when  the  cold  and  hungry 
number  millions  instead  of  dozens.  And  if  alone  I cannot 
help  these  millions,  and  am  not  therefore  morally  bound  to  do 
so,  I can  and  must  help  them  together  with  others.  My  personal 
duty  becomes  a collective  one — it  still  remains  my  own,  although 
it  becomes  wider  in  so  far  as  I participate  in  the  collective  whole 
and  its  universal  task.  The  very  fact  of  economic  distress  proves 
that  economic  conditions  are  not  connected  with  the  principle 
of  the  good  as  they  should  be,  that  they  are  not  morally  organised. 
A whole  pseudo-scientific  school  of  conservative  anarchists  in 
economics  directly  denied,  and  still  denies,  though  without  the 
old  self-confidence,  all  ethical  principles  and  all  organisation  in 
the  sphere  of  economic  relations.  The  prevalence  of  this  school 
had  much  to  do  with  the  birth  of  revolutionary  anarchism.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  many  varieties  of  socialism,  both  radical  and 
conservative,  do  more  to  detect  the  presence  of  the  disease  than 
to  offer  a real  cure  for  it. 

The  defect  of  the  orthodox  school  of  political  economy — the 
liberal  or,  more  exactly,  the  anarchical  school — is  that  it  separates 
on  principle  the  economic  sphere  from  the  moral.  The  defect 
of  socialism  is  that  it  more  or  less  confuses  or  wrongly  identifies 
these  two  distinct,  though  indivisible,  spheres. 

II 

All  practical  affirmation  of  a thing  apart  from  its  due 
connection  or  correlation  with  everything  else  is  essentially 


328  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

immoral.  To  affirm  a particular,  conditional,  and  relative 
activity  as  a thing  by  itself,  as  absolutely  independent  and  self- 
contained,  is  wrong  in  theory  and  immoral  in  practice,  and  can 
lead  to  nothing  but  disaster  and  sin. 

To  regard  man  as  merely  an  economic  agent — a producer, 
owner,  and  consumer  of  material  goods — is  a wrong  and  immoral 
point  of  view.  These  functions  have  in  themselves  no  significance 
for  man,  and  do  not  in  any  way  express  his  essential  nature  and 
worth.  Productive  labour,  possession  and  enjoyment  of  its 
results,  is  one  of  the  aspects  of  human  life  or  one  of  the  spheres 
of  human  activity.  The  truly  human  interest  lies  only  in  the 
fact  as  to  how  and  with  what  object  man  acts  in  this  particular 
domain.  Free  play  of  chemical  processes  can  only  take  place  in 
a corpse  ; in  a living  body  these  processes  are  connected  and 
determined  by  organic  purposes.  Similarly,  free  play  of  economic 
factors  and  laws  is  only  possible  in  a community  that  is  dead 
and  is  decomposing,  while  in  a living  community  that  has  a 
future,  economic  elements  are  correlated  with  and  determined 
by  moral  ends.  To  proclaim  laissez  faire , laissez  passer  is  to  say 
to  society  ‘ die  and  decompose.’ 

No  doubt  economic  relations  as  a whole  are  based  upon 
a simple  and  ultimate  fact,  which  cannot  as  such  be  deduced 
from  the  moral  principle — the  fact,  namely,  that  work,  labour, 
is  necessary  to  the  maintenance  of  life.  There  has  never 
been,  however,  a stage  in  the  life  of  humanity  at  which  this 
material  necessity  was  not  complicated  by  moral  considerations 
— not  even  at  the  very  lowest  stage.  Necessity  compels  the 
half-brutal  savage  to  procure  means  of  livelihood  ; but  in  doing 
so  he  may  either  think  of  himself  alone  or  include  in  his  need 
the  need  of  his  mate  and  his  young.  If  the  hunt  has  been 
unsuccessful  he  can  either  share  his  scarce  booty  with  them, 
hardly  satisfying  his  own  hunger,  or  can  take  everything  for 
himself,  leaving  them  to  fare  as  best  they  can  ; or,  finally,  he 
may  kill  them  so  as  to  satisfy  his  hunger  with  their  flesh. 
Whichever  course  he  adopts,  even  the  most  orthodox  devotee 
of  political  economy  would  not  be  likely  to  ascribe  his  action  to 
the  effect  of  inexorable  economic  ‘ laws.’ 

The  necessity  to  work  in  order  to  obtain  the  means  of  liveli- 
hood is  indeed  a matter  of  fate  and  is  independent  of  human  will. 


THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION  329 

But  it  is  merely  an  impetus  which  spurs  man  to  activity,  the 
further  course  of  that  activity  being  determined  by  psychological 
and  moral,  and  not  by  economic,  causes.  When  social  structure 
becomes  somewhat  more  complex,  not  only  the  distribution  of 
the  products  of  labour  and  the  manner  of  enjoying  them,  or 
‘ consumption,’  but  the  labour  itself  is  determined  by  motives 
other  than  those  of  physical  need — motives  which  have  no  element 
of  compulsion  or  natural  necessity  about  them.  It  is  sufficient  to 
name  as  an  instance  the  most  prevalent  among  them — the  greed 
for  acquisition  and  the  thirst  for  pleasure.  There  is  no  economic 
law  which  determines  the  degree  of  cupidity  or  voluptuousness  for 
all  men,  and  there  is  indeed  no  law  that  these  passions  should  be 
necessarily  inherent  in  man  at  all,  as  inevitable  motives  of  his 
actions.  Therefore  in  so  far  as  economic  activities  and  relations 
are  determined  by  these  mental  propensities  they  do  not  belong  to 
the  domain  of  economics  and  do  not  obey  any  ‘ economic  laws  ’ 
with  necessity. 

Take  the  most  elementary  and  the  least  disputable  of  these 
so-called  laws,  namely,  the  law  that  the  price  of  goods  is  deter- 
mined by  the  relation  between  supply  and  demand.  This  means 
that  the  more  demand  there  is  for  a particular  article  and  the  less 
there  is  of  it,  the  more  it  costs — and  vice  vena. 

Suppose,  however,  that  a rich  but  benevolent  trader  who  has 
a constant  supply  of  some  article  of  the  first  necessity  decides,  in 
spite  of  the  increased  demand  for  that  article,  not  to  raise  his  prices 
or  even  decides  to  lower  them  for  the  good  of  his  needy  neigh- 
bours. This  will  be  a violation  of  the  supposed  economic  ‘law,’ 
and  yet,  however  unusual  the  case  may  be,  certainly  no  one  would 
think  it  impossible  or  supernatural. 

Let  us  grant  that  if  everything  depended  upon  the  good  will  of 
private  individuals,  we  might,  in  the  domain  of  economics,  regard 
magnanimous  motives  as  a negligible  quantity,  and  build  every- 
thing upon  the  secure  foundation  of  self-interest.  Every  society, 
however,  has  a central  government,  a necessary  function  of  which 
is  to  limit  private  cupidity.  There  are  a good  many  historical 
instances  in  which  the  state  made  the  habitual  and — from  the 
point  of  view  of  self-interest — the  natural  order  of  things  un- 
natural and  unusual,  sometimes  indeed  rendering  it  altogether 
impossible,  and  transforming  the  former  exceptions  into  a universal 


330  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

rule.  Thus,  for  instance,  in  Russia  for  two  and  a half  centuries 
landowners  who  set  all  their  serfs  free  and,  in  doing  so,  gave 
them  land  were  the  most  rare  and  extraordinary  exception, 
the  usual  order  or  ‘ law  ’ of  relations  between  the  landed  gentry 
and  the  peasants  being  that  the  latter,  together  with  the  land  on 
which  they  lived,  were  the  property  of  the  former.  But  with 
remarkable  completeness  and  rapidity  this  universal  law  was,  by 
the  good  will  of  the  government,  made  illegal  and  impossible  in 
practice,  while  the  former  rare  exceptions  were  transformed  into 
an  absolutely  binding  rule,  admitting  of  no  exception  at  all. 
Similarly,  the  exceptional  case  of  the  tradesman  who  does  not  put 
up  the  price  of  the  articles  of  first  necessity  with  the  increase  in 
demand,  becomes  a universal  rule  as  soon  as  the  government 
deems  it  necessary  to  regulate  the  price  of  goods.  In  that  case 
this  direct  violation  of  the  supposed  ‘ law  ’ actually  becomes  law, 
— not  a ‘ natural  ’ one,  but  positive  law  or  law  of  the  state. 

It  should  be  noted  that  notwithstanding  the  difference  between 
the  two  conceptions  of  the  law  of  nature  and  the  man-made  law 
of  the  state,  the  latter  resembles  the  former  in  that  within  the 
sphere  of  its  application  it  has  a universal  force  and  admits  of  no 
unforeseen  exception.1  But  the  alleged  economic  laws  never 
have  such  a significance  and  can  at  any  moment  be  freely  violated 
and  annulled  by  the  moral  will  of  man.  In  virtue  of  the  law  of 
1 86 1 not  a single  landowner  in  Russia  may  buy  or  sell  peasants 
otherwise  than  in  his  dreams.  On  the  other  hand,  in  spite  of 
the  ‘ law  ’ of  supply  and  demand,  nothing  prevents  any  virtuous 
Petersburg  landlord,  even  when  fully  awake,  from  lowering  the 
rent  of  his  flats  out  of  philanthropic  motives.  The  fact  that  only 
a very  few  take  the  opportunity  of  doing  so,  proves  not  the  power 
of  the  economic  factors,  but  the  weakness  of  individual  virtue. 
For  as  soon  as  this  lack  of  personal  benevolence  is  supplanted  by 
the  demand  of  the  law  of  the  state,  rents  will  be  immediately 
lowered,  and  the  ‘ iron  ’ necessity  of  economic  laws  will  at  once 
prove  to  be  as  fragile  as  glass.  This  self-evident  truth  is  at  the 
present  time  admitted  by  writers  altogether  foreign  to  socialism, 
such  as  Laveleye,  for  instance.  In  earlier  days,  J.  S.  Mill,  anxious 
to  preserve  to  political  economy  the  character  of  an  exact  science 

1 Direct  violation  of  the  law  by  the  evil  will  is  foreseen  by  the  law  itself  and  is 
treated  as  a crime  which  calls  forth  a corresponding  punishment. 


THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION  331 

and  at  the  same  time  to  avoid  too  obvious  a contradiction  with 
reality,  invented  the  following  compromise.  Admitting  that  the 
economic  distribution  of  the  products  of  labour  depends  upon  the 
human  will  and  may  be  subordinated  to  moral  purposes,  he  in- 
sisted that  the  production  is  entirely  determined  by  economic  laws 
which  have  in  this  case  the  force  of  the  laws  of  nature — as  if 
production  did  not  take  place  in  the  same  general  conditions  and 
depend  upon  the  same  human  powers  and  agents  as  distribution  ! 
This  anti-scientific  and  scholastic  distinction  met,  indeed,  with 
no  success,  and  was  equally  rejected  by  both  opposed  camps  which 
Mill  had  sought  to  reconcile  by  means  of  it. 

Freedom  of  the  individual  and  society  from  the  supposed 
natural  laws  of  the  materially-economic  order  stands,  of  course,  in 
no  immediate  connection  with  the  metaphysical  question  of  free- 
will. When  I say,  e.g .,  that  Petersburg  landlords  are  free  from 
the  supposed  law  which  determines  the  price  by  the  relation  of 
supply  and  demand,  I am  far  from  maintaining  that  any  one  of 
these  landlords  whatever  his  character  may  be  can  at  any  given 
moment  lower  the  rent  of  his  flats  in  spite  of  the  increased  demand 
for  them.  I only  urge  the  obvious  truth  that  given  a sufficiently 
strong  moral  impulse,  no  alleged  economic  necessity  can  prevent 
the  individual,  especially  in  his  public  capacity,  from  subordinating 
material  considerations  to  the  moral  in  this  or  in  that  instance. 
Hence  it  logically  follows  that  in  the  realm  of  economics  there 
exist  no  natural  laws  acting  independently  of  the  individual  will 
of  the  given  agents.  I do  not  deny  the  presence  of  law  in  human 
activity  ; I only  argue  against  a special  kind  of  materially-economic 
necessity  invented  a hundred  years  ago,  and  taken  to  be  inde- 
pendent of  the  general  conditions  that  determine  volition  through 
psychological  and  moral  motives.  The  character  of  objects  and 
events  which  fall  within  the  province  of  economics  is  on  the  one 
hand  due  to  physical  nature,  and  is  therefore  subject  to  material 
necessity  (to  the  mechanical,  chemical,  and  biological  laws),  and 
on  the  other  hand  is  determined  by  human  activity,  which  is  subject 
to  the  moral  and  psychological  necessity.  And  since  no  further 
causality,  in  addition  to  the  natural  and  the  human,  can  be  found 
in  the  phenomena  of  the  economic  order,  it  follows  that  there  can 
be  in  that  domain  no  independent  necessity  and  uniformity  of 
its  own. 


332  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

It  has  been  pointed  out  that  the  lack  of  moral  initiative  in 
private  individuals  is  successfully  supplemented  by  state  legislation, 
which  regulates  economic  relations  in  the  moral  sense  with  a view 
to  the  common  good.  Reference  to  this  fact  does  not  prejudge  the 
question  as  to  the  extent  to  which  such  regulation  may  be  desirable 
in  the  future  and  as  to  the  form  it  should  take.  Of  one  thing 
only  there  can  be  no  doubt : the  very  fact  of  state  interference 
in  the  domain  of  economics  [e.g.  the  legislative  regulation  of  prices) 
unmistakably  proves  that  the  given  economic  relations  do  not 
express  any  natural  necessity.  For  it  is  clear  that  laws  of  nature 
could  not  be  cancelled  by  laws  of  the  state. 

Ill 

Subordination  of  material  interests  and  relations  in  human 
society  to  some  special  economic  laws  acting  on  their  own  account 
is  the  fiction  of  a bad  metaphysic,  and  has  not  the  least  foundation 
in  reality.  Therefore  the  general  demand  of  reason  and  con- 
science remains  in  force — the  demand,  namely,  that  this  province 
too  should  be  subordinated  to  the  supreme  principle  of  morality, 
and  that  in  its  economic  life  society  should  be  the  organised 
realisation  of  the  good. 

There  are  not  and  there  cannot  be  any  independent  economic 
laws,  any  economic  necessity,  for  economic  phenomena  can  only 
be  thought  of  as  activities  of  man  who  is  a moral  being,  and  is 
capable  of  subordinating  all  his  actions  to  the  pure  idea  of  the 
good.  There  is  only  one  absolute  and  independent  law  for  man 
as  such — the  moral  law,  and  only  one  necessity,  namely,  the  moral. 
The  peculiarity  and  independence  of  the  economic  sphere  of  rela- 
tions lies,  not  in  the  fact  that  it  has  ultimate  laws  of  its  own,  but 
in  the  fact  that  from  its  very  nature  it  presents  a special  and  pecu- 
liar field  for  the  application  of  the  one  moral  law.  Thus  earth 
differs  from  other  planets,  not  by  having  an  independent  source  of 
light  all  to  itself,  but  by  receiving  and  reflecting  the  one  universal 
light  of  the  sun  in  a special  and  definite  way,  dependent  upon  its 
place  in  the  solar  system. 

This  truth  is  fatal  both  to  the  theories  of  the  orthodox 
economists  and  to  the  socialist  doctrine  which  seems  at  first  sight 
to  be  opposed  to  them.  When  the  socialists  denounce  the  exist- 


THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION  333 

ing  economic  system  and  declaim  against  the  unequal  distribution 
of  property,  the  cupidity  and  callousness  of  the  rich,  they  appear 
to  adopt  the  moral  point  of  view,  and  to  be  inspired  by  the  good 
feeling  of  pity  towards  those  who  labour  and  are  heavy  laden. 
The  positive  side  of  their  doctrine,  however,  clearly  shows  that 
they  take  up,  to  begin  with,  an  ambiguous  and,  subsequently,  a 
directly  hostile  attitude  to  the  moral  principle. 

The  inmost  essence  of  socialism  has  for  the  first  time  found 
expression  in  the  remarkable  doctrine  of  the  followers  of  St. 
Simon,  who  proclaimed  as  their  motto  the  rehabilitation  of 
matter  in  the  life  of  humanity.  There  is  no  doubt  that  matter 
has  its  rights,  and  the  less  they  are  respected  in  principle  the 
more  they  assert  themselves  in  practice.  The  nature  of  these 
rights,  however,  may  be  interpreted  in  two  different  and,  indeed, 
directly  contradictory  ways.  According  to  the  first  meaning — a 
perfectly  true  and  an  extremely  important  one — the  sphere  of 
material  relations  (more  immediately  of  the  economic  ones)  has  a 
right  to  become  the  object  of  man’s  moral  activity.  It  has  a 
right  to  have  the  supreme  spiritual  principle  realised  or  incarnate 
in  it — matter  has  a right  to  he  spiritualised.  It  would  be  unjust 
to  maintain  that  this  meaning  was  entirely  foreign  to  the  early 
socialistic  systems.  But  they  did  not  dwell  upon  it  or  develop 
it,  and  very  soon  this  glimmer  of  a higher  consciousness  proved 
to  be  merely  a deceptive  light  over  the  quagmire  of  carnal  passions 
which  gradually  sucked  in  so  many  noble  and  inspired  minds. 

The  other  and  more  prevalent  meaning  given  to  the  principle 
of  the  rehabilitation  of  matter  justifies  the  degradation  of  the  St. 
Simonists,  and  indeed  makes  it  into  a principle.  The  material  life 
of  humanity  is  not  regarded  as  merely  a special  province  of  human 
activity  or  of  the  application  of  the  moral  principles.  It  is  said 
to  have  an  entirely  independent  material  principle  of  its  own, 
existing  in  its  own  right  both  in  and  for  man,  namely,  the 
principle  of  instinct  or  passion.  This  element  must  be  given 
full  scope  so  that  the  normal  social  order  should  naturally  follow 
from  personal  passions  and  interests  supplementing  and  replacing 
one  another  (Fourier’s  fundamental  conception).  This  ‘normal’ 
order  neither  need  nor  can  be  moral.  Alienation  from  the  higher 
spiritual  interests  becomes  inevitable  as  soon  as  the  material 
side  of  human  life  is  recognised  to  have  an  independent  and 


334  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

unconditional  value.  One  cannot  serve  two  masters  ; and  social- 
ism naturally  gives  predominance  to  the  principle  under  the  banner 
of  which  the  whole  movement  had  first  originated,  i.e.  to  the 
material  principle.  The  domain  of  economic  relations  is  entirely 
subordinated  to  it,  and  is  recognised  as  the  chief,  the  fundamental, 
the  only  real  and  decisive  factor  in  the  life  of  humanity.  At  this 
point  the  inner  opposition  between  socialism  and  the  bourgeois 
political  economy  disappears. 

In  truth,  the  morally  abnormal  condition  of  the  civilised  world 
at  the  present  day  is  due,  not  to  this  or  that  particular  institution, 
but  to  the  general  conception  and  trend  of  life  in  modern  society. 
Material  wealth  is  becoming  all-important,  and  social  structure 
itself  is  distinctly  degenerating  into  a plutocracy.  It  is  not 
personal  and  hereditary  property,  division  of  labour  and  capital, 
or  inequality  of  material  possessions  that  is  immoral.  What  is 
immoral  is  plutocracy,  which  distorts  the  true  social  order,  raising 
the  lower  and  the  essentially  subservient  factor — the  economic 
one — to  the  supreme  and  dominant  position,  and  relegating  all 
other  things  to  be  the  means  and  instruments  of  material  gain. 
Socialism  leads  to  a similar  distortion,  though  in  a different  way. 
From  the  plutocratic  point  of  view  the  normal  man  is  in  the  first 
place  a capitalist  and  then,  per  accidens , a citizen,  head  of  a family, 
an  educated  man,  member  of  some  religious  union,  etc.  Similarly 
from  the  socialist  point  of  view  all  other  interests  become  in- 
significant and  retreat  into  the  background — if  they  don’t  disappear 
altogether — before  the  economic  interest.  In  socialism,  too,  the 
essentially  lower,  material  sphere  of  life — the  industrial  activity 
— becomes  decidedly  predominant  and  overshadows  all  else.  Even 
in  its  most  idealistic  forms  socialism  has  from  the  first  insisted 
that  the  moral  perfection  of  society  wholly  and  directly  depends 
upon  its  economic  structure,  and  sought  to  attain  moral  reforma- 
tion or  regeneration  exclusively  by  means  of  an  economic  revolu- 
tion. This  fact  clearly  shows  that  socialism  really  stands  on  the 
same  ground  as  the  bourgeois  regime  hostile  to  it,  namely,  the 
supremacy  of  the  material  interest.  Both  have  the  same  motto  : 

‘ man  liveth  by  bread  alone.’  For  a plutocrat  the  worth  or  man 
depends  upon  his  possessing  or  being  capable  of  acquiring  material 
wealth.  For  a consistent  socialist  the  worth  of  man  depends  upon 
his  producing  material  wealth.  In  both  cases  man  is  taken  as  an 


THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION  335 

economic  agent,  apart  from  other  aspects  of  his  being.  In 
both  cases  economic  welfare  is  taken  to  be  the  final  end  and 
the  highest  good.  The  struggle  between  the  two  hostile  camps 
is  not  one  of  principle  ; or,  rather,  the  struggle  is  waged,  not  about 
the  content  of  a principle,  but  only  about  the  extent  of  its  realisa- 
tion. One  party  is  concerned  with  the  material  welfare  of  the 
capitalist  minority,  and  the  other  with  the  also  material  welfare  of 
the  labour  majority.  And  in  so  far  as  that  majority,  the  working 
classes  themselves,  begin  to  care  exclusively  about  their  material 
welfare  they  obviously  prove  to  be  as  selfish  as  their  adversaries, 
and  lose  all  moral  advantage  over  the  latter.  In  certain  respects 
indeed  socialism  applies  the  principle  of  material  interest  more 
fully  and  consistently  than  its  opponents.  Although  plutocracy 
really  cares  for  the  economic  interest  alone,  it  admits  the  existence, 
though  in  a subordinate  sense  only,  of  other  spheres  of  life,  with 
independent  institutions— such  as  the  state  and  the  Church — cor- 
responding to  them.  Socialism  in  its  pure  form,  however,  rejects 
all  this.  For  it  man  is  exclusively  a producer  and  consumer,  and 
human  society  is  merely  an  economic  union — a union  of  work- 
men proprietors  involving  no  substantial  distinctions.  And 
since  the  predominance  of  the  material  interests — of  the  economic, 
industrial  and  financial  elements  — constitutes  the  character- 
istic feature  of  the  bourgeois  regime,  consistent  socialism  which 
intends  finally  to  limit  the  life  of  humanity  to  these  lower  in- 
terests alone  is  certainly  not  an  antithesis  to,  but  the  extreme  ex- 
pression, the  crowning  stage  of  the  one-sided  bourgeois  civilisation. 

Socialists  and  their  apparent  opponents — the  plutocrats — un- 
consciously join  hands  on  the  most  essential  point.  Plutocracy 
subjugates  the  masses  of  the  people  to  its  own  selfish  interests, 
disposes  of  them  to  its  own  advantage,  for  it  regards  them  merely 
as  labour,  as  producers  of  material  wealth.  Socialism  protests 
against  such  ‘exploiting,’  but  its  protest  is  superficial  and  is 
not  based  upon  principles,  since  socialism  itself  in  the  long-run 
regards  man  as  merely  (or  in  any  case  as  mainly  and  primarily)  an 
economic  agent — and  if  he  is  only  that,  there  is  no  inherent  reason 
why  he  should  not  be  exploited.  On  the  other  hand,  the  exclus- 
ive importance  which  attaches  to  material  wealth,  in  the  com- 
mercial state  of  the  present  day,  naturally  leads  those  who  directly 
produce  this  wealth,  the  working  classes,  to  demand  an  equal 


336  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

share  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  goods  which,  but  for  them,  could 
not  exist  and  which  they  are  brought  up  to  regard  as  the  chief 
thing  in  life.  Thus  the  practical  materialism  of  the  ruling  classes 
themselves  calls  forth  and  justifies  socialistic  tendencies  in  the 
subjugated  working  classes.  And  when  fear  of  social  revolution 
brings  about  an  insincere  conversion  of  the  plutocrats  to  the  ideal- 
istic principles,  it  proves  to  be  a useless  game.  The  masks  of 
morality  and  religion  hastily  put  on  do  not  deceive  the  masses, 
who  know  perfectly  well  what  the  true  worship  of  their  masters 
is.1  And  having  learnt  this  cult  from  their  superiors,  working 
people  naturally  want  to  be  the  priests  and  not  the  victims. 

The  two  hostile  parties  mutually  presuppose  one  another  and 
cannot  escape  from  the  vicious  circle  until  they  acknowledge  and 
adopt  in  practice  the  unquestionable  truth,  forgotten  by  them, 
that  the  significance  of  man,  and  therefore  of  human  society,  is 
not  essentially  determined  by  economic  relations,  that  man  is  not 
primarily  the  producer  of  material  goods  or  market  values,  but  is 
something  infinitely  more  important,  and  that  consequently  society, 
too,  is  more  than  an  economic  union.2 


IV 

For  the  true  solution  of  the  so-called  ‘social  question  ’ it  must 
in  the  first  place  be  recognised  that  the  economic  relations  con- 
tain no  special  norm  of  their  own,  but  are  subject  to  the  universal 
moral  norm  as  a special  realm  in  which  it  finds  its  application. 
The  triple  moral  principle  which  determines  our  due  relation  to- 
wards God,  men,  and  the  material  nature  is  wholly  and  entirely 

1 A remarkably  characteristic  specimen  of  plutocratic  hypocrisy  is  an  article  by  the 
well-known  Jules  Simon  (now  deceased)  which  appeared  some  years  ago  without 
attracting  notice.  The  article  deals  with  the  three  chief  evils  of  modern  society  : the 
decline  of  religion,  of  family,  and  of  . . . rentes  ! The  treatment  of  religion  and  family 
is  dull  and  vague,  but  the  lines  dealing  with  the  fall  of  interest  on  capital  (from  4 per 
cent  to  2^  per  cent,  if  I remember  rightly)  are  written  with  the  blood  of  the  heart. 

2 The  contention  that  socialism  and  plutocracy  are  based  upon  one  and  the  same 
materialistic  principle  was  put  forward  by  me  eighteen  years  ago  (in  chapter  xiv.  of  the 
Kritika  otvlet  chonnih  natchal  ( Critique  of  Abstract  Principles),  first  published  in  the  Russky 
Viestnik  in  1878)  and  led  my  critics  to  accuse  me  of  having  a wrong  conception  of 
socialism  and  of  misjudging  its  value.  I need  no  longer  answer  these  criticisms,  for 
they  have  been  brilliantly  disproved  by  the  history  of  the  socialistic  movement  itself, 
the  main  current  of  which  has  decidedly  evinced  itself  as  economic  materialism. 


THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION  337 

applicable  in  the  domain  of  economics.  The  peculiar  character  of 
the  economic  relations  gives  a special  importance  to  the  last  member 
of  the  moral  trinity,  namely,  the  relation  to  the  material  nature 
or  earth  (in  the  wide  sense  of  the  term).  This  third  relation  can 
only  have  a moral  character  if  it  is  not  isolated  from  the  first  two 
but  is  conditioned  by  them  in  their  normal  position. 

The  realm  of  economic  relations  is  exhaustively  described  by 
the  general  ideas  of  production  (labour  and  capital),  distribution  of 
property,  and  exchange  of  values.  Let  us  consider  these  funda- 
mental ideas  from  the  moral  point  of  view,  beginning  with  the 
most  fundamental  of  them — the  idea  of  labour.  We  know  that 
the  first  impulse  to  labour  is  given  by  the  material  necessity. 
But  for  a man  who  recognises  above  himself  the  absolutely 
perfect  principle  of  reality,  or  the  will  of  God,  all  necessity  is  an 
expression  of  that  will.  From  this  point  of  view  labour  is  a 
commandment  of  God.  This  commandment  requires  us  to 
work  hard  ( ‘ in  the  sweat  of  thy  face  ’ ) to  cultivate  the 
ground,  i.e.  to  perfect  material  nature.  For  whose  sake  ? In 
the  first  place  for  our  own  and  that  of  our  neighbours.  This 
answer,  clear  at  the  most  elementary  stages  of  moral  develop- 
ment, no  doubt  remains  in  force  as  humanity  progresses,  the 
only  change  being  that  the  denotation  of  the  term  ‘ neighbour  ’ 
becomes  more  and  more  wide.  Originally  my  neighbours  were 
only  those  to  whom  I was  related  by  the  blood  tie  or  by  personal 
feeling ; finally  it  is  all  mankind.  When  Bastiat,  the  most 
gifted  representative  of  economic  individualism,  advocated  the 
principle  ‘each  for  himself’  he  defended  himself  against  the  charge 
of  selfishness  by  pointing  to  the  economic  harmony  in  virtue  of 
which  each  man  in  working  solely  for  himself  (and  his  family), 
unconsciously,  from  the  very  nature  of  social  relations,  works 
also  for  the  benefit  of  all,  so  that  the  interest  of  each  harmonises 
in  truth  with  the  interest  of  all.  In  any  case,  however,  this 
would  be  merely  a natural  harmony,  similar  to  that  which 
obtains  in  the  non-human  world  where  certain  insects,  seeking 
nothing  but  sweet  food  for  themselves,  unconsciously  bring 
about  the  fertilisation  of  plants  by  transferring  the  pollen  from 
one  flower  to  another.  Such  harmony  testifies,  of  course,  to  the 
wisdom  of  the  Creator,  but  does  not  make  insects  into  moral 
beings.  Man,  however,  is  a moral  being  and  natural  solidarity 

z 


338  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

is  not  sufficient  for  him  ; he  ought  not  merely  to  labour  for  all 
and  participate  in  the  common  work,  but  to  know  that  he  does 
so  and  to  wish  to  do  it.  Those  who  refuse  to  recognise  this 
truth  as  a matter  of  principle  will  feel  its  force  as  a fact  in 
financial  smashes  and  economic  crises.  Men  who  are  the 
cause  of  such  anomalies  and  men  who  are  the  victims  of  them, 
both  belong  to  the  class  of  people  who  work  for  themselves, 
and  yet  the  natural  harmony  neither  reconciles  their  interests 
nor  secures  their  prosperity.  The  merely  natural  unity  of 
economic  interests  is  not  sufficient  to  secure  the  result  that 
each,  in  working  for  himself,  should  also  work  for  all.  To 
bring  this  about  economic  relations  must  be  consciously  directed 
towards  the  common  good. 

To  take  selfishness  or  self-interest  as  the  fundamental  motive 
of  labour  means  to  deprive  labour  of  the  significance  of  a 
universal  commandment,  to  make  it  into  something  accidental. 
If  I work  solely  for  the  sake  of  my  own  and  my  family’s  welfare, 
then  as  soon  as  I am  able  to  attain  that  welfare  by  other  means  I 
must  lose  my  only  motive  for  work.  And  if  it  were  proved  that  a 
whole  class  or  group  of  persons  can  prosper  by  means  of  robbery, 
fraud,  and  exploitation  of  other  people’s  labour,  no  theoretically 
valid  objection  could  be  urged  against  this  from  the  point  of  view 
of  unrestrained  self-interest.  Is  it  for  the  natural  harmony 
of  interests  to  abolish  such  abuses  ? But  where  was  the  natural 
harmony  in  the  long  ages  of  slavery,  feudalism,  serfdom  ? Or 
perhaps  the  fierce  intestine  wars  which  abolished  feudalism  in 
Europe  and  slavery  in  America  were  the  expression — though 
somewhat  a belated  one  — of  natural  harmony  ? In  that  case 
it  is  difficult  to  see  in  what  way  such  harmony  differs  from 
disharmony,  and  in  what  way  the  freedom  of  the  guillotine  is 
better  than  the  restrictions  of  state  socialism.  If,  however, 
natural  harmony  of  interests,  seriously  understood,  proves  to  be 
powerless  against  economic  abuses  due  to  the  unrestrained 
selfishness  of  individuals  and  classes  whose  freedom  in  this 
respect  has  to  be  restricted  in  the  name  of  higher  justice,  it  is 
unfair  and  unpermissible  to  appeal  to  justice  in  the  last  resort  only, 
and  to  put  it  at  the  end  and  not  at  the  beginning  of  social 
structure.  In  addition  to  being  unfair  and  unpermissible  it 
is  also  quite  useless.  For  such  morality  ex  machina  has  no 


339 


THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION 

power  to  attract  or  to  inspire.  No  one  will  believe  in  it  or  be 
restrained  by  it  from  anything,  and  the  only  thing  left  will  be 
bare  compulsion — one  day  in  one  direction,  and  the  next  in 
another. 

When  the  principle  of  the  individualistic  freedom  of  interests 
is  adopted  by  the  strong,  it  does  not  make  them  work  more  but 
gives  rise  to  the  slavery  of  ancient  times,  to  the  seigniorial  right  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  and  to  modern  economic  slavery  or  plutocracy. 
When  adopted  by  the  weak,  who,  however,  are  strong  as  the 
majority,  as  the  masses,  this  principle  of  unrestrained  selfishness 
does  not  make  them  more  united  in  their  work,  but  merely  creates 
an  atmosphere  of  envious  discontent,  which  produces  in  the  end  the 
bombs  of  the  anarchists.  Had  Bastiat,  who  was  fond  of  expressing 
his  ideas  in  the  form  of  popular  dialogues,  lived  to  our  day,  he 
might  have  played  the  chief  part  in  the  following  conversation  : 

Anarchist.  Out  of  especial  friendliness  for  you,  Mr.  Bastiat,  I 
warn  you  take  yourself  away  from  here,  as  far  as  ever  you  can — 
I am  just  going  to  blow  up  all  this  neighbourhood,  for  there  are 
lots  of  tyrants  and  exploiters  about. 

Bastiat.  What  a terrible  position  ! But  consider  : you  are 
doing  irreparable  damage  to  the  principle  of  human  liberty  ! 

Anarchist.  On  the  contrary — we  are  putting  it  into  practice. 

Bastiat.  Who  has  put  these  devilish  ideas  into  your  mind  ? 

Anarchist.  You  yourself. 

Bastiat.  What  an  absurd  slander  ! 

Anarchist.  It  is  perfectly  true.  We  are  your  pupils.  Have 
you  not  proved  that  the  root  of  all  evil  is  the  interference  of 
public  authority  with  the  free  play  of  individual  interests  ? Have 
you  not  ruthlessly  condemned  all  intentional  organisation  of 
labour,  all  compulsory  social  order  ? And  that  which  is  con- 
demned as  evil  must  be  destroyed.  We  translate  your  words  into 
practice  and  are  saving  you  from  dirty  work. 

Bastiat.  I struggled  only  against  the  interference  of  the  state 
in  the  economic  life,  and  against  the  artificial  organisation  of  labour 
advocated  by  socialists. 

Anarchist.  Socialists  are  no  concern  of  ours ; if  they  are 
deluded  by  fancies,  so  much  the  worse  for  them.  We  are  not 
deluded.  We  fight  against  one  organisation  only — one  which 
really  exists  and  is  called  social  order.  Towns  and  factories,  stock 


340  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


exchanges  and  academies,  administration,  police,  army,  Church 
— all  these  did  not  spring  from  the  ground  of  themselves  ; they 
are  the  product  of  artificial  organisation.  Therefore  on  your  own 
premisses  they  are  an  evil  and  ought  to  be  destroyed. 

Bastiat.  Even  if  this  were  true,  things  ought  not  to  be 
destroyed  by  violent  and  disastrous  means. 

Anarchist.  What  is  disaster  ? You  have  yourself  beautifully 
explained  that  apparent  calamities  lead  to  the  real  good  of  all,  and 
you  have  always  very  subtly  distinguished  between  the  unim- 
portant things  that  are  evident  and  the  important  that  cannot  he 
seen.  In  the  present  case  what  is  evident  are  the  flying  sardine 
boxes,  demolished  buildings,  disfigured  corpses — this  is  evident 
but  unimportant.  And  that  which  is  not  seen  and  which  alone  is 
important  is  the  future  humanity  which  will  be  free  from  all 
‘ interference  ’ and  all  ‘ organisation  ’ — since  the  persons,  classes, 
and  institutions  which  might  interfere  and  organise  will  be  ex- 
terminated. You  preached  the  principle  of  anarchy,  we  carry 
out  anarchy  in  practice. 

Bastiat.  Policeman  ! policeman  ! seize  him  quick  before  he 
blows  us  up.  What  are  you  thinking  about  ? 

Policeman.  Well,  I was  wondering  whether,  from  the  point 
of  view  of  self-interest,  which  I too  have  adopted  after  reading 
your  eloquent  arguments,  it  is  of  more  advantage  to  me  to  seize 
this  fellow  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck  or  to  make  haste  and  establish 
a natural  harmony  of  interests  between  us. 

V 

In  opposition  to  the  alleged  economic  harmony,  facts  compel 
us  to  admit  that  starting  with  private  material  interest  as  the 
purpose  of  labour  we  arrive  at  universal  discord  and  destruction 
instead  of  universal  happiness.  If,  however,  the  principle  and  the 
purpose  of  labour  is  found  in  the  idea  of  the  common  good,  under- 
stood in  the  true  moral  sense — i.e.  as  the  good  of  all  and  each  and 
not  of  the  majority  only — that  idea  will  also  contain  the  satisfaction 
of  every  private  interest  within  proper  limits. 

From  the  moral  point  of  view  every  man,  whether  he  be  an 
agricultural  labourer,  a writer,  or  a banker,  ought  to  work  with 
a feeling  that  his  work  is  useful  to  all,  and  with  a desire  for  it 


THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION 


34i 


to  be  so  ; he  ought  to  regard  it  as  a duty,  as  a fulfilment  of  the 
law  of  God  and  a service  to  the  universal  welfare  of  his  fellow-men. 
But  just  because  this  duty  is  universal,  it  presupposes  that  every 
one  else  must  regard  the  person  in  question  in  the  same  way,  i.e. 
to  treat  him  not  as  a means  only  but  as  an  end  or  purpose  of  the 
activity  of  all.  The  duty  of  society  is  to  recognise  and  to  secure 
to  each  of  its  members  the  right  to  enjoy  unmolested  worthy  human 
existence  both  for  himself  and  his  family.  Worthy  existence  is 
compatible  with  voluntary  poverty,  such  as  St.  Francis  preached 
and  as  is  practised  by  our  wandering  pilgrims  ; but  it  is  incompatible 
with  work  which  reduces  all  the  significance  of  man  to  being 
simply  a means  for  producing  or  transferring  material  wealth. 
Here  are  some  instances. 

“We  watch  the  kriuchniks  at  work:  the  poor  half-naked  Tatars 
strain  every  nerve.  It  is  painful  to  see  the  bent  back  flatten  out 
all  of  a sudden  under  a weight  of  eight  to  eighteen  puds 1 (the 
last  figure  is  not  exaggerated).  This  terrible  work  is  paid  at  the 
rate  of  five  roubles  per  thousand  puds.2  The  most  a kriuchnik 
can  earn  in  the  twenty-four  hours  is  one  rouble,  and  that  if  he 
works  like  an  ox  and  overstrains  himself.  Few  can  endure  more 
than  ten  years  of  such  labour,  and  the  two-legged  beasts  of  burden 
become  deformed  or  paralytic”  ( Novoe  Vremya , N.  7356).  Those 
who  have  not  seen  the  Volga  kriuchniks  are  sure  to  have  seen  the 
porters  in  big  hotels  who,  breathless  and  exhausted,  drag  to  the 
fourth  or  fifth  floor  boxes  weighing  several  hundredweight.  And 
this  in  our  age  of  machines  and  all  sorts  of  contrivances  ! No  one 
seems  to  be  struck  by  the  obvious  absurdity.  A visitor  arrives  at 
an  hotel  with  luggage.  To  walk  up  the  stairs  would  be  a useful 
exercise  for  him,  but  instead  he  gets  into  a lift,  while  his  things, 
for  which,  one  would  have  thought,  the  lift  was  expressly  meant, 
are  loaded  on  the  back  of  the  porter,  who  thus  proves  to  be  not 
even  an  instrument  of  another  man  but  an  instrument  of  his 
things — the  means  of  a means  ! 

Labour  which  is  exclusively  and  crudely  mechanical  and  in- 
volves too  great  a strain  of  the  muscular  force  is  incompatible  with 
human  dignity.  But  equally  incompatible  with  it  and  equally 
immoral  is  work  which,  though  in  itself  not  heavy  or  degrading, 
lasts  all  day  long  and  takes  up  all  the  time  and  all  the  forces  of 

1 2^  cwt.  and  5J  cwt.  2 16^,  tons. 


342  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

the  person,  so  that  the  few  hours  of  leisure  are  necessarily  devoted 
to  physical  rest,  and  neither  time  nor  energy  is  left  for  thoughts 
and  interests  of  the  ideal  or  spiritual  order.1  In  addition  to  hours 
of  leisure,  there  are,  of  course,  entire  days  of  rest — Sundays  and 
other  holidays.  But  the  exhausting  and  stupefying  physical  work 
of  the  week  produces  in  holiday  time  a natural  reaction — a craving 
to  plunge  into  dissipation  and  to  forget  oneself,  and  the  days  of 
rest  are  devoted  to  the  satisfaction  of  that  craving. 

“ Let  us  not,  however,  dwell  on  the  impression  which  individual 
facts  susceptible  of  observation  produce  upon  us,  even  though 
such  facts  be  numerous.  Let  us  turn  to  statistics  and  inquire  as 
to  how  far  wages  satisfy  the  necessary  wants  of  the  workers. 
Leaving  aside  the  rate  of  wages  in  the  different  industries,  the 
quality  of  food,  the  size  of  the  dwelling,  etc.,  we  will  only  ask  of 
statistics  the  question  as  to  the  relation  between  the  length  of 
human  life  and  the  occupation  pursued.  The  answer  is  as  follows  : 
Shoemakers  live  on  the  average  to  the  age  of  49  ; printers,  48.3  ; 
tailors,  46.6  ; joiners,  44.7  ; blacksmiths,  41.8  ; turners,  41.6  ; 
masons,  33.  And  the  average  length  of  life  of  civil  servants, 
capitalists,  clergymen,  wholesale  merchants,  is  60-69  years.2  Now 
take  the  figures  referring  to  the  death-rate  in  relation  to  the  size  of 
the  dwellings  and  the  amount  of  rent  in  the  different  parts  of 
town.  It  will  be  seen  that  in  parts  of  the  town  with  a poor  popula- 
tion, belonging  chiefly  to  the  working  class  and  paying  low  rents, 
mortality  is  far  higher  than  in  the  neighbourhood  with  a relatively 
larger  number  of  rich  people.  For  Paris  this  relation  was  estab- 
lished by  Villarm6  as  early  as  the  ’twenties  of  the  present  century. 
He  calculated  that  during  the  five  years  from  1822  to  1826,  in 
the  II.  arrondissement  of  Paris,  where  the  average  rent  per  flat 
was  605  francs,  there  was  one  death  per  71  inhabitants,  while  in 
the  arrondissement  XII.,  where  the  average  rent  was  148  francs, 
there  was  one  death  per  44  inhabitants.  Similar  data  are  to  hand 
for  many  other  towns,  Petersburg  among  them.3  Hence  the 
following  true  conclusion  is  deduced  : ‘ If  a workman  is  not 

1 Tram  conductors  in  Petersburg  work  more  than  eighteen  hours  a day  for  twenty- 
five  or  thirty  roubles  a month  (see  Nouoe  Vremya,  N.  7357). 

2 The  author  quoted  refers  here  to  Hanshofer’s  book,  Lehrbuch  der  Statistik.  All 
the  figures  quoted  are  apparently  for  the  countries  of  Western  Europe. 

3 A.  A.  Isaev,  Natchala  polititcheskoi  economii  (Principles  of  Political  Economy),  2nd 
ed.  pp.  254-255. 


THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION  343 

regarded  as  a means  of  production,  but  is  recognised,  like  every 
other  human  being,  to  be  a free  agent  and  an  end  in  himself,  the 
average  forty  years  of  life  cannot  be  regarded  as  normal,  while 
men  belonging  to  richer  classes  live  on  the  average  till  sixty  or 
seventy  years.  This  life,  the  longest  possible  under  the  social 
conditions  of  the  present  day,  must  be  regarded  as  normal.  All 
deviation  below  this  average,  unless  it  can  be  ascribed  to  the 
peculiarities  of  the  particular  work  in  question,  must  be  entirely 
put  down  to  excessive  labour  and  insufficient  income  which  does 
not  allow  to  satisfy  the  most  essential  needs  and  the  minimum 
demands  of  hygiene  with  regard  to  food,  clothing,  and  housing.1 

The  absolute  value  of  man  is  based,  as  we  know,  upon  the 
possibility  inherent  in  his  reason  and  his  will  of  infinitely  approach- 
ing perfection  or,  according  to  the  patristic  expression,  the 
possibility  of  becoming  divine  (Oewo-is).  This  possibility  does  not 
pass  into  actuality  completely  and  immediately,  for  if  it  did  man 
would  be  already  equal  to  God — which  is  not  the  case.  The 
inner  potentiality  becomes  more  and  more  actual,  and  can  only  do 
so  under  definite  real  conditions.  If  an  ordinary  man  is  left  for 
many  years  on  an  uninhabited  island  or  in  strict  solitary  confine- 
ment he  cannot  improve  morally  or  intellectually,  and  indeed,  ex- 
hibits rapid  and  obvious  regress  towards  the  brutal  stage.  Strictly 
speaking,  the  same  is  true  of  a man  wholly  absorbed  in  physical 
labour.  Even  if  he  does  not  deteriorate  he  is  certainly  unable  to 
think  of  actively  realising  his  highest  significance  as  man.  The 
moral  point  of  view  demands,  then,  that  every  one  should  have  the 
means  of  existence  ( e.g . clothes  and  a warm  and  airy  dwelling)  and 
sufficient  physical  rest  secured  to  him,  and  that  he  should  also  be 
able  to  enjoy  leisure  for  the  sake  of  his  spiritual  development. 
This  and  this  alone  is  absolutely  essential  for  every  peasant  and 
workman  ; anything  above  this  is  from  the  evil  one. 

Those  who  are  opposed  to  improving  the  social  and  economic 
relations  in  accordance  with  the  demands  of  morality  urge  the 
following  consideration.  They  maintain  that  the  only  way  in 
which  the  working  people  can,  in  addition  to  a secured  material 
existence,  have  leisure  to  pursue  their  moral  and  intellectual  de- 
velopment, is  by  reducing  the  number  of  hours  of  work,  without 

1 A.  A.  Isaev,  Natchala  polititcheskoi  economii  ( Principles  of  Political  Economy),  2nd 
ed.  p.  226. 


344  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

reducing  the  wages.  And  this,  they  argue,  will  lead  to  a decrease 
of  output,  i.e.  to  economic  loss  or  regress.  Let  it  be  provisionally 
granted  that  shorter  hours  of  work  with  no  reduction  in  wages 
will  indeed  inevitably  lead  to  a diminution  in  productiveness. 
But  a temporary  diminution  of  output  does  not  necessarily  mean 
regress  or  loss.  When  the  hours  of  work  have  been  reduced  to 
a certain  norm,  positive  reasons  conditioning  the  increase  of  pro- 
ductiveness will  continue  to  operate.  Such  causes  are  to  be 
found  in  technical  improvements,  greater  proximity  between 
different  districts  and  countries  owing  to  new  means  of  com- 
munication, a closer  intercourse  between  the  different  classes — 
causes  all  of  which  are  wholly  or  partly  independent  of  wages 
and  hours  of  work.  Thus  the  general  quantity  of  output  will 
again  begin  to  increase  ; and  even  at  the  time  when  the  increase 
will  not  yet  have  attained  the  former  level,  production  of  the 
objects  of  first  necessity  for  individuals  and  the  state  will  obviously 
not  be  decreased  at  all,  and  the  decrease  will  entirely  affect  objects 
of  luxury.  It  will  be  no  great  hardship  to  society  if  gold  watches, 
satin  skirts,  and  velvet  chairs  become  twice  or  even  three  times  as 
dear  as  they  are  now.  It  may  be  said  that  shorter  hours  of  work 
with  the  same  pay  means  a direct  loss  to  the  factory  owners. 
It  is  impossible,  however,  to  do  anything  without  loss  to  some 
one  or  other  ; and  it  could  hardly  be  called  a calamity  or  an  in- 
justice if  certain  manufacturers  were  to  get  half  a million  instead 
of  a million,  or  fifty  instead  of  a hundred  thousand  dividend. 
This  social  class,  no  doubt  an  important  and  necessary  one,  does 
not  inevitably  consist  of  avaricious,  greedy,  and  selfish  men.  I 
know  several  capitalists  entirely  free  from  these  vices  ; and  those  of 
them  who  are  not  have  a right  to  demand  that  society  should  pity 
them  and  not  condone  their  abnormal  and  dangerous  state  of  mind. 

The  hackneyed  philippics,  prompted  by  low  envy,  that  socialists 
indulge  in  against  the  rich  are  perfectly  sickening  ; demands  for 
equalisation  of  property  are  unreasonable  to  the  point  of  absurdity.1 
But  it  is  one  thing  to  attack  private  wealth  as  though  that  in 

1 The  diametrical  opposition  between  socialism  and  Christianity  has  often  been 
noted,  but  the  essence  of  it  is  generally  wrongly  understood.  The  popular  saying  that 
socialism  demands  that  the  poor  should  take  from  the  rich,  while  Christianity  wants 
the  rich  to  give  to  the  poor,  is  more  witty  than  profound.  The  opposition  is  far 
deeper  than  this,  and  lies  in  the  moral  attitude  towards  the  rich.  Socialism  cwt'/Vithem 
and  Christianity  pities  them — pities  them  because  of  the  obstacles  which  connection 


THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION  345 

itself  were  an  evil,  and  another — to  demand  that  wealth,  as  a 
relative  good,  should  harmonise  with  the  common  good  under- 
stood in  the  light  of  the  unconditional  moral  principle.  It  is  one 
thing  to  strive  for  an  impossible  and  unnecessary  equalisation  of 
property,  and  another,  while  preserving  the  advantages  of  larger 
property  to  those  who  have  it,  to  recognise  the  right  of  every 
one  to  the  necessary  means  of  worthy  human  existence. 

Apart  from  the  false  conclusions  which  the  opponents  of  the 
moral  regulation  of  economic  relations  deduce  from  their  funda- 
mental assertion,  they  are  wrong  in  that  assertion  itself.  Regula- 
tion of  the  hours  of  work  and  of  the  amount  of  wages  need  not 
necessarily  curtail  the  production  at  all  (not  even  of  the  articles 
of  luxury)  or  cause  corresponding  losses  to  the  factory  owners. 
This  would  be  the  case  if  the  quantity — not  to  speak  of  quality — of 
the  production  entirely  depended  upon  the  number  of  hours  ex- 
pended upon  it.  No  thoughtful  and  conscientious  economist 
would,  however,  venture  to  maintain  such  a crying  absurdity. 
It  is  easy  to  see  that  a worker  exhausted,  dulled,  and  embittered 
by  excessive  labour  can  produce  in  sixteen  hours  less  than  he  can 
produce  in  eight  hours  if  he  works  zealously  and  cheerfully,  with 
a consciousness  of  his  human  dignity  and  a faith  in  his  moral 
connection  with  the  society  or  the  state  which  looks  after  his 
interests  instead  of  exploiting  him.  Thus  a moral  adjustment  of 
economic  relations  would  at  the  same  time  make  for  economic 
progress. 


VI 

In  considering  the  organisation  of  human  relations — in  this 
case,  of  the  economic  ones — moral  philosophy  is  not  concerned 
with  the  concrete  particular  forms  and  determinations.  These 
are  dictated  by  life  itself,  and  find  realisation  through  the  work  of 
specialists  and  of  men  endowed  with  authority — men  of  theory 
and  men  of  practice.  Moral  philosophy  is  only  concerned  with 
the  immutable  conditions  which  follow  from  the  very  nature  of  the 

with  Mammon  puts  in  the  way  of  moral  perfection  : it  is  hard  for  the  rich  to  enter  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.  But  socialism  takes  that  kingdom  itself — i.e.  the  highest  good 
and  blessedness — to  consist  in  nothing  other  than  wealth,  provided  it  is  differently  dis- 
tributed. That  which  for  Christianity  is  an  obstacle,  for  socialism  is  an  end  ; if  this 
is  not  an  antithesis  I do  not  know  what  else  to  call  by  that  name. 


346  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

good,  and  apart  from  which  no  concrete  organisation  could  be 
moral.  From  the  ethical  point  of  view  every  social  organisation 
is  valuable  and  desirable  only  in  so  far  as  it  embodies  the  moral 
principle,  only  in  so  far  as  it  justifies  the  good.  To  make  projects  or 
prophecies  is  not  the  business  of  philosophy.  It  can  neither  offer 
definite  plans  of  social  organisation,  nor  even  know  whether  indi- 
viduals and  nations  will  seek  to  adjust  their  relations  according  to 
the  demands  of  the  absolute  moral  principle  at  all.  Its  problem  is 
as  clear  and  as  independent  of  any  external  circumstances  as  the 
problems  of  pure  mathematics.  Under  what  conditions  is  a 
fragment  of  a three-sided  prism  equal  to  three  pyramids  ? Under 
what  conditions  do  social  relations  in  a given  sphere  correspond 
to  the  demands  of  the  moral  principle  and  ensure  the  stability  and 
the  constant  moral  progress  of  a given  community  ? 

We  already  know  under  what  conditions  social  relations  in 
the  domain  of  material  labour  become  moral.  The  first  general 
condition  is,  that  the  sphere  of  economic  activity  should  not  be 
isolated  or  affirmed  as  independent  and  self-contained.  The 
second,  more  special  condition  is  that  production  should  not  be  at 
the  expense  of  the  human  dignity  of  the  producers ; that  not 
one  of  them  should  become  merely  a means  of  production,  and 
that  each  should  have  secured  to  him  material  means  necessary 
for  worthy  existence  and  development.  The  first  demand  has  a 
religious  character  : not  to  put  Mammon  in  the  place  of  God,  not 
to  regard  material  wealth  as  an  independent  good,  and  the  final 
purpose  of  human  activity,1  not  even  in  the  economic  sphere. 
The  second  is  a demand  of  humane  feeling  : to  pity  those  who 
labour  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  not  to  set  a lower  value  upon  them 
than  upon  soulless  things.  To  these  two  a third  condition  is 
necessarily  added,  which,  so  far  as  I am  aware,  has  never  yet  been 
insisted  upon  in  this  connection.  I am  referring  to  the  duties 
of  man  as  an  economic  agent  towards  material  nature  itself, 
which  he  is  called  upon  to  cultivate.  This  duty  is  directly  indi- 
cated in  the  commandment  of  labour  : Till  the  ground.2  To 

1 The  recognition  of  material  wealth  as  the  end  of  economic  activity  may  be  called 
the  original  sin  of  political  economy,  since  it  dates  back  to  Adam  Smith. 

2 The  Hebrew  words  laobod  ef  gaad'ama  (Gen.  iii.  23)  literally  mean  ‘to  serve  the 
earth  ’ — not,  of  course,  to  serve  in  the  sense  of  a religious  cult  (although  the  word  obod 
is  used  in  this  sense  also)  but  in  the  sense  in  which  angels  serve  humanity  or  a teacher 
serves  the  children,  etc. 


THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION  347 

cultivate  the  ground  means  not  to  misuse,  exhaust,  or  devastate  it, 
but  to  improve  it,  to  bring  it  to  greater  power  and  fulness 
of  being.  Neither  our  fellow-men  nor  material  nature  must 
be  a mere  passive  or  impersonal  instrument  of  economic  pro- 
duction or  exploitation.  Taken  in  itself  or  in  isolation  it  is 
not  the  end  of  our  activity,  but  it  is  a distinct  and  independent 
part  of  that  end.  Its  subordinate  position  in  relation  to  the  Deity 
and  humanity  does  not  render  it  rightless : it  has  a right  to  our 
help  in  transforming  and  uplifting  it.  Things  are  rightless,  but 
nature  or  earth  is  not  merely  a thing  but  an  objectified  essence, 
which  we  can  and  therefore  must  help  to  become  spiritualised. 
The  end  of  labour,  so  far  as  material  nature  is  concerned,  is  not  to 
make  it  an  instrument  for  obtaining  things  and  money,  but  to 
perfect  it — to  revive  the  lifeless,  to  spiritualise  the  material  in  it. 
The  methods  whereby  this  can  be  achieved  cannot  be  indicated 
here  ; they  fall  within  the  province  of  art  (in  the  broad  sense  of 
the  Greek  But  what  is  essential  is  the  point  of  view,  the 

inner  attitude  and  the  direction  of  activity  that  results  from  it. 
Without  loving  nature  for  its  own  sake  it  is  impossible  to  organise 
material  life  in  a moral  way. 

Man’s  relation  to  material  nature  may  be  of  three  kinds  : 
passive  submission  to  it  as  it  now  exists  5 active  struggle  with  it, 
its  subjugation  and  the  using  of  it  as  an  indifferent  instrument  ; 
and  finally,  the  affirmation  of  it  in  its  ideal  state — of  that  which 
it  ought  to  become  through  man.  The  first  relation  is  wholly  un- 
just both  to  man  and  to  nature — to  man,  because  it  deprives  him 
of  his  spiritual  dignity  by  making  him  the  slave  of  matter  ; to 
nature,  because,  in  worshipping  it  in  its  present  imperfect  and  per- 
verted condition,  man  deprives  it  of  the  hope  of  perfection.  The 
second,  the  negative  relation  to  nature  is  relatively  normal,  as  a 
transitory  and  temporary  stage ; for  it  is  clear  that  in  order  to 
make  nature  what  it  ought  to  be,  we  must  first  condemn  it  as  it 
is,  as  it  ought  not  to  be.  But  absolutely  normal  and  final  is  of 
course  only  the  third,  the  positive  relation,  in  which  man  uses  his 
superiority  over  nature  for  the  sake  of  uplifting  it  as  well  as 
of  raising  himself.  It  will  be  easily  noted  that  man’s  threefold 
relation  to  earthly  nature  is  a repetition,  though  on  a wider  scale, 
of  his  relation  to  his  own  material  nature.  Here,  too,  we  neces- 
sarily distinguish  the  abnormal  (passive)  and  the  normal  (positively 


34B  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

active)  relation  and  the  transition  from  the  first  to  the  second 
(negatively  active).  The  carnal  man  submits  and  surrenders  him- 
self to  the  material  life  in  its  undue,  perverted  state.  The  ascetic 
struggles  with  the  flesh  in  order  to  conquer  it.  The  perfect  man, 
having  passed  through  such  a struggle,  does  not  destroy  his  bodily 
life  but  attains  to  its  transfiguration,  resurrection,  and  ascension. 
Asceticism  or  the  subjugation  of  the  flesh  in  individual  life,  struggle 
with  external  earthly  nature  and  the  subjugation  of  it  in  the 
common  life  of  humanity,  is  merely  a necessary  transition  and  not 
the  ideal  form  of  activity.  The  ideal  is  to  cultivate  the  earth,  to 
minister  to  it , so  that  it  might  be  renewed  and  regenerated. 

VII 

The  efficient  or  producing  cause  of  labour  is  found  in  the  needs 
of  man.  This  cause  holds  good  for  all  the  factors  of  production 
which  appear  now  as  the  subjects  and  now  as  the  objects  of  needs. 
The  worker,  as  a living  being,  has  need  of  the  means  of  liveli- 
hood, and,  as  labour,  he  is  the  object  of  need  to  the  capitalist, 
who  in  his  turn,  as  employer,  is  an  object  of  need  to  the  worker, 
and  in  this  sense  is  the  immediate  efficient  cause  of  his  labour. 
The  same  persons,  as  producers,  stand  in  a similar  relation  to 
consumers,  etc. 

The  material  (and  instrumental)  cause  of  labour  and  production 
is  found  on  the  one  hand  in  the  forces  of  nature,  and  on  the  other 
in  the  various  faculties  and  forces  of  man.  But  these  twofold 
(efficient  and  material)  economic  causes,  studied  by  political 
economy  and  statistics  from  different  points  of  view,  are  physically 
unlimited  and  morally  indefinite.  The  needs  may  increase  in 
number  and  complexity  ad  infinitum  ; both  needs  and  faculties 
may  be  of  different  worth,  and,  finally,  the  forces  of  nature  may 
be  used  in  the  most  various  directions.  All  this  leads  to  practical 
questions  to  which  political  economy,  as  a science  limited  to  the 
material  and  existent  aspect  of  things,  can  give  no  answer.  Many 
persons  have  a need  of  pornography.  Should  this  need  be  satisfied 
by  the  production  of  indecent  books,  pictures,  immoral  spectacles  ? 
Some  demands,  as  well  as  some  faculties,  are  obviously  perverted 
in  character  ; thus  in  the  case  of  many  persons  certain  positive 
qualities  of  intellect  and  will  degenerate  into  a peculiar  capacity 


THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION  349 

for  clever  swindling  within  the  limits  of  legality.  Should  we 
allow  this  capacity  to  develop  freely  and  become  a special  pro- 
fession or  branch  of  work  ? Political  economy  as  such  can 
obviously  answer  nothing  to  questions  such  as  these — they  in 
no  wise  concern  it.  They  directly  concern,  however,  the  re- 
cognised interests  of  society  which  cannot  confine  itself  to  matters 
of  fact  alone,  but  must  submit  them  to  a higher  causality,  by 
drawing  a distinction  between  the  normal  and  abnormal  needs 
and  faculties,  the  normal  and  abnormal  use  of  the  forces  of  nature. 
Since  the  fact  of  the  existence  of  needs  on  the  one  hand  and 
of  forces  and  faculties  on  the  other  does  not  solve  the  practical 
question  as  to  the  extent  to  which  the  first  should  be  satisfied 
and  the  manner  in  which  the  latter  should  be  used,  appeal  has 
to  be  made  to  the  moral  principle  as  determining  that  which 
ought  to  be.  It  does  not  create  the  factors  and  elements  of  labour, 
but  indicates  how  those  already  in  existence  should  be  used. 
Hence  follows  a new  conception  of  labour,  both  more  general 
and  more  definite  than  that  given  by  political  economy  as  such. 
For  political  economy  labour  is  an  activity  of  man  ensuing  from 
his  needs,  conditioned  by  his  faculties,  applied  to  the  forces  of 
nature,  and  having  for  its  purpose  the  production  of  the  greatest 
possible  wealth.  From  the  moral  point  of  view  labour  is  interaction 
between  men  in  the  material  world ; it  must , in  accordance  with  the 
moral  demands , secure  to  each  and  all  the  necessary  means  of  worthy 
existence , enabling  man  to  bring  to  perfection  all  his  powers , and  is 
finally  destined  to  transfigure  and  spiritualise  material  nature . Such 
is  the  essence  of  labour  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  higher 
causality — of  the  formal  and  final  cause — apart  from  which  the 
two  lower  causes  remain  practically  indefinite. 

Further  conditions  of  the  normal  economic  life  become  clear 
in  analysing  the  conceptions  of  property  and  exchange. 


VIII 

All  the  acute  questions  of  the  economic  life  are  closely  con- 
nected with  the  idea  of  property,  which  in  itself,  however,  belongs 
to  the  sphere  of  jurisprudence,  morality,  and  psychology  rather 
than  to  that  of  economic  relations.  This  fact  alone  clearly 


350  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

shows  how  mistaken  is  the  attempt  to  conceive  of  the  economic 
phenomena  as  entirely  independent  and  self-contained. 

The  ultimate  basis  of  property,  as  all  serious  philosophers  of 
modern  times  rightly  recognise,  is  to  be  found  in  the  very  nature 
of  man.  Even  in  the  contents  of  inner  psychical  experience  we 
necessarily  distinguish  ourselves  from  what  is  ours  : all  our  thoughts, 
feelings,  desires,  we  regard  as  belonging  to  us,  in  contradistinction 
to  ourselves  as  thinking,  feeling,  desiring.  The  relation  is  two- 
fold. On  the  one  hand,  we  necessarily  put  ourselves  above  what 
is  ours,  for  we  recognise  that  our  existence  is  not  by  any  means 
exhausted  by  or  limited  to  any  particular  mental  states — that 
this  thought,  this  desire  may  disappear  while  we  ourselves  remain. 
This  is  the  fundamental  expression  of  human  personality  as 
formally  unconditional,  quite  apart  from  the  metaphysical  question 
of  the  soul  as  substance.  On  the  other  hand,  however,  we  are 
aware  that  if  we  are  deprived  of  all  mental  states  altogether  we 
shall  become  a blank  ; so  that  for  the  reality  and  fulness  of  being 
it  is  insufficient  to  be  ‘oneself,’  but  it  is  necessary  to  have  ‘one’s 
own.’  Even  in  the  inner  psychical  sphere  that  which  belongs 
to  the  self  is  not  always  the  absolute  property  of  the  person  and 
is  not  always  connected  with  him  to  the  same  extent. 

Some  mental  states  express  by  their  content  in  the  most  inti- 
mate, direct,  and  immediate  way  that  which  is  essential  and  funda- 
mental to  the  given  individual,  and  are  in  a sense  inseparable  from 
him.  Thus,  for  instance,  when  a person  has  an  implicit  steadfast 
faith  in  God,  such  faith  is  his  unalienable  property — not  in  the  sense 
that  he  must  always  actually  have  in  mind  a positive  thought  of 
God  with  corresponding  thoughts  and  impulses,  but  only  in  the 
sense  that  every  time  the  idea  of  God  actually  arises  in  his  mind, 
or  that  he  is  faced  with  a question  concerning  God,  a definite 
positive  answer  accompanied  by  corresponding  states  of  feeling 
and  will  is  bound  to  follow.  Other  mental  states  are,  on  the 
contrary,  merely  superficial  and  transitory  reactions  of  the  person  to 
external  influences — accidental  both  in  contentand  inorigin,  though 
conditioned  by  a more  or  less  complex  association  of  ideas  and 
other  mental  and  bodily  processes.  Thus  when  a person  happens 
to  think  of  the  advantages  or  disadvantages  of  cycling,  or  to 
wish  for  a drink  of  beer,  or  to  feel  indignation  at  some  lie  in 
the  newspapers,  etc.,  it  is  obvious  that  such  accidental  states  are 


THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION  351 

but  feebly  connected  with  the  person  to  whom  they  belong, 
that  he  loses  nothing  and  experiences  no  essential  change  when 
they  disappear.  Finally,  some  mental  states  cannot,  apart  from 
their  content  and  manner  of  origin,  be  regarded  as  reactions  on 
the  part  of  the  individual  who  experiences  them  at  all,  so  that 
their  belonging  to  him  must  be  recognised  as  fictitious.  To 
this  category  belong  the  suggested  ( hypnotically  or  otherwise) 
ideas,  desires  and  feelings,  and  actions  ensuing  therefrom.  It 
is  very  difficult  to  offer  a theoretical  account  of  them,  but  they 
unquestionably  exist.  Without  going  into  these  exceptional 
phenomena,  however,  it  is  sufficient  to  indicate  the  fact  that 
both  in  theory  and  in  practice  certain  actions  are  not  laid  to  the 
responsibility  of  the  persons  who  commit  them.  In  view  of  the 
circumstance  that,  for  the  most  part,  these  actions  are  conditioned 
by  corresponding  ideas,  feelings,  and  impulses  on  the  part  of  the 
agent,  the  recognition  that  he  is  not  responsible  for  them  implies 
that  certain  mental  states  do  not  belong  to  or  form  the  property 
of  the  person  who  experiences  them. 

Thus  even  in  the  sphere  of  the  inner  psychical  life  we  find 
that  property  is  but  relative  and  different  in  degree,  beginning 
with  the  ‘treasure’  in  which  man  ‘puts  his  very  soul’  and  which 
may  nevertheless  be  taken  from  him,  and  ending  with  states 
which  prove  to  belong  to  him  in  an  utterly  fictitious  sense. 
Similar  relativity  obtains  with  regard  to  external  property.  The 
immediate  object  of  it  is  man’s  own  body,  which,  however, 
belongs  to  man  only  more  or  less.  This  is  true,  first,  in  the 
natural  sense  that  the  individual  himself  cannot  regard  as  equally 
his  own  those  organs  or  parts  of  the  body  without  which  earthly 
life  is  altogether  impossible  ( e.g . the  head  or  the  heart),  those 
without  which  it  is  possible  but  not  enjoyable  {e.g.  ‘the  apple  of 
the  eye  ’ ),  and  those  the  loss  of  which  is  no  misfortune  at  all 
{e.g.  an  amputated  finger  or  an  extracted  tooth,  not  to  speak  of 
nails,  hair,  etc.).  If,  however,  the  real  connection  of  the  person 
with  his  body  is  thus  relative  and  unequal,  there  is  no  natural 
ground  for  regarding  the  body  as  his  absolute  property  or  as 
absolutely  inviolable.  And  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  un- 
conditional moral  principle  the  bodily  inviolability  of  a person  is 
not  anything  distinct  and  on  its  own  account,  but  is  connected 
with  universal  and  generally  binding  norms,  and  is  therefore 


352  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

incompatible  with  the  violation  of  these  norms.  If  it  is  both  my 
right  and  my  duty  forcibly  to  prevent  a man  from  injuring  a 
defenceless  being,  it  must  be  the  right  and  the  duty  of  other 
persons  to  exercise  such  bodily  compulsion  over  myself  too  in  a 
similar  case. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  property  is  understood  in  the  strict 
sense  as  the  cjus  utendi  and  abutendi  re  sua’  (the  right  to  use 
and  to  abuse  of  one’s  own  thing),  such  a right  is  not  absolute  so 
far  as  one’s  body  is  concerned.  On  this  side  too  it  is  limited  by 
just  considerations  of  the  common  good  which  have  found 
expression  in  legal  codes  of  all  epochs  and  nations.  If  the  whole 
of  man’s  physical  powers  are  needed,  for  instance,  for  the  defence 
of  his  country,  even  so  slight  an  ‘abuse’  of  one’s  body  as  cutting 
off  a finger  is  recognised  as  criminal.  And  even  apart  from  such 
special  conditions,  not  by  any  means  every  use  that  man  may 
make  of  his  body  is  regarded  as  permissible. 

But  whatever  the  moral  and  social  limitations  of  man’s  rights 
over  his  own  body  may  be,  in  any  case  it  unquestionably  belongs  to 
him,  just  as  his  mental  states  do,  in  virtue  of  a direct  and  natural 
connection,  independent  of  his  will,  between  himself  and  what  is 
his.  As  to  external  things,  the  ground  upon  which  they  belong 
to  this  or  that  person,  or  are  appropriated  by  him,  is  not  im- 
mediately given  and  calls  for  explanation.  Even  when  there 
appears  to  be  the  closest  connection  between  a person  and  a 
thing,  as  for  instance  between  necessary  clothing  and  the  person 
who  is  wearing  it,  the  question  as  to  property  still  remains  open, 
for  the  clothes  may  not  be  his  own  but  may  have  been  stolen 
from  somebody  else.  On  the  other  hand,  a person  living  in 
Petersburg  or  London  may  have  immovable  property  in  East 
Siberia  which  he  has  never  seen  nor  ever  will  see.  If,  then,  the 
presence  of  the  closest  real  connection  between  a person  and  a 
thing  (as  in  the  first  case)  is  in  no  sense  a guarantee  of  property, 
while  the  absence  of  any  real  connection  (as  in  the  second 
instance)  is  no  obstacle  to  property,  it  follows  that  the  real 
connection  is  altogether  irrelevant  and  that  the  right  of  property 
must  have  an  ideal  basis.  According  to  a current  philosophical 
definition,  property  is  the  ideal  continuation  of  the  person  in 
things  or  the  extension  of  the  person  to  things.  In  what  way, 
however,  and  upon  what  ground  is  the  self  thus  extended  to 


THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION  353 

what  is  other  than  it  and  appropriates  that  other  ? Such  extension 
cannot  be  due  to  the  act  of  personal  will  alone  ; an  act  of  will 
can  transfer  the  already  existing  right  of  property  (through  gift 
or  legacy,  etc.),  but  it  cannot  create  the  right  itself.  The  right 
of  property  is  usually  held  to  arise  in  two  ways  only,  through 
possession  and  work.  Possession  in  the  strict  sense,  i.e.  apart 
from  any  special  work  (such  as  the  military),  through  simple 
seizure  resulting  from  a direct  act  of  will  gives  rise  to  a special 
right  of  property,  c the  right  of  the  first  occupier  ’ (c  jus  primi 
occupantis  ’),  but  does  so  only  in  exceptional  cases,  more  and 
more  rarely  met  with,  when  that  which  is  seized  belongs  to  no 
one  (cra  nullius ’). 

Work  thus  remains,  in  the  general  opinion,  the  essential  basis 
of  property.  The  product  of  one’s  work  and  effort  naturally 
becomes  one's  own,  one’s  property.  This  ground,  however,  also 
proves  to  be  insecure.  If  it  were  sufficient,  children  would  have 
to  be  recognised  as  the  property  of  the  mother  who  brought 
them  into  the  world  with  no  little  labour  and  effort.  Reservations 
have  to  be  made  and  human  beings  must  be  a priori  excluded 
from  the  class  of  objects  of  property  ; and  this  can  only  be  done  in 
virtue  of  principles  utterly  foreign  to  the  economic  sphere  as 
such.  At  this  point,  however,  a new  and  more  important 
difficulty  arises.  It  has  been  granted  that  things  alone  can  be 
objects  of  property,  and  that  the  ground  of  property  is  labour 
which  produces  them.  This  would  be  all  very  well  if  labour 
could  produce  things  ; but  in  truth  labour  produces  not  things 
but  utility  in  things.  Utility,  however,  is  a relation  and  not  a 
thing  and  cannot  therefore  be  the  object  of  property.  In  common 
parlance,  dating  from  primitive  times,  it  is  usual  to  speak  of 
workmen  making  things  ; but  even  persons  ignorant  of  political 
economy  understand  that  workmen  merely  produce  in  the  given 
material  changes  which  communicate  to  it  some  relatively  new 
qualities  corresponding  to  certain  human  needs.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  they  work  for  their  own  sake  as  well  as  for  other 
people’s,  and  that  their  work  must  give  satisfaction  to  their  own 
needs.  “The  workman  is  worthy  of  his  meat,”1 — this  is  a 
moral  axiom  which  no  one  would  honestly  challenge.  The 
question,  however,  is  what  can  be  the  ground  of  the  workman’s 

1 ‘ Meat  ’ should,  of  course,  be  understood  in  the  wide  sense  explained  above. 


354  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

ownership  of  the  so-called  products  of  labour.  Labour  which 
does  not  produce  a thing,  but  only  a certain  particular  quality  in 
it,  inseparable  from  the  thing  itself,  cannot  justify  the  ownership 
of  that  which  it  did  not  produce,  and  which  does  not  depend 
upon  it.  The  employer  is  responsible  for  the  workman’s  labour 
but  not  for  the  reality  of  its  products,  and  is  therefore  in  the 
same  position  as  the  workman  with  regard  to  the  latter. 

Thus  there  exists  no  real  ground  why  the  product  of  labour 
should  be  the  property  of  any  one,  and  we  must  therefore  turn  to 
the  ideal  grounds. 


IX 

In  virtue  of  the  absolute  significance  of  personality  every  man 
has  a right  to  the  means  of  a worthy  existence.  Since,  however, 
the  individual  as  such  has  this  right  potentially  only,  and  it 
depends  upon  society  actually  to  realise  or  to  secure  it,  it 
follows  that  the  individual  has  a corresponding  duty  towards 
society — the  duty  to  be  useful  to  it  or  to  work  for  the  common 
good.  In  this  sense  work  is  the  source  of  property : the 
worker  has  an  unquestionable  right  of  property  over  what  he 
has  earned.  Within  certain  limits  demanded  by  the  moral  prin- 
ciple, wages  may  be  regulated  by  society  — i.e.  by  the  central 
authority  or  the  Government  — and  not  be  allowed  to  fall 
below  a certain  minimum,  but  they  cannot  be  prescribed  with 
absolute  exactness.  On  the  other  hand,  the  needs  and  the 
conditions  of  a worthy  existence  are  even  in  a normal  society  only 
an  approximately  constant  and  definite  quantity.  Hence  it 
becomes  possible  for  individual  persons  to  save  or  to  accumulate 
material  means,  i.e.  to  form  capital.  There  is,  of  course,  still 
less  visible  and  real  connection  between  capital  and  the  person 
who  has  saved  it  than  there  is  between  the  workman  and  the 
thing  he  has  made,  but  the  close  and  complete  ideal  connection 
is  obvious.  Capital  as  such,  in  its  general  nature — apart  from 
the  circumstances  owing  to  which  it  may  in  individual  cases  have 
been  built  up — is  a pure  product  of  human  will,  for  originally  it 
depended  upon  that  will  to  save  a part  of  the  earnings  or  to  use 
it  too  for  current  needs.  Capital,  therefore,  ought  in  justice  to 
be  recognised  as  property  par  excellence ,1 

1 I have  indicated  the  source  of  capital  in  the  simplest  normal  scheme.  But 


THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION  355 

The  conception  of  property  involves  the  conception  of  freely 
disposing  of  the  object  of  property.  Ought  this  freedom  to  be 
absolute  and  include  both  the  use  and  the  abuse  of  property  ? 
Since  the  realisation  of  any  right  at  all  is  only  possible  if  society 
guarantees  it,  there  is  no  reason  why  society  should  guarantee 
personal  misuse  of  a right  that  conflicts  with  the  common  good. 
From  the  fact  that,  according  to  the  moral  principle,  the 
individual  has  absolute  and  inalienable  rights,  it  by  no  means 
follows  that  every  act  of  his  will  is  the  expression  of  such  an 
inalienable  right.  Apart  from  being  irrational  such  a supposition 
would  be  practically  self-destructive,  since  a will  which  trespasses 
upon  all  rights  would  also  in  that  case  be  inviolable,  and  there- 
fore there  would  be  no  inalienable  right  left.  And  if  it  is  both 
permissible  and  obligatory  to  prevent  a person  from  misusing  his 
hands  (for  instance,  from  committing  a murder),  it  is  also 
permissible  and  obligatory  to  prevent  him  from  misusing  his 
property  to  the  detriment  of  the  common  good  or  social  justice.* 1 

The  only  question  is  as  to  what  we  are  to  understand  by 
misuse  that  calls  for  the  intervention  of  the  state.  Socialism 
recognises  as  misuse  all  transfer  of  earned  property  to  another 
person  by  legacy  or  testament.  This  transference  of  economic 
advantages  to  persons  who  have  not  personally  deserved  them  is 
alleged  to  be  the  main  wrong  and  the  source  of  all  social  evils. 
But  although  inheritance  of  property  has  some  real  drawbacks, 
they  disappear  in  the  face  of  the  positive  side  of  this  institution, 
which  necessarily  follows  from  the  very  nature  of  man.  The 
continuous  chain  of  progress  in  humanity  is  kept  together  by 
the  conscious  successiveness  of  its  links.  While  the  all- 
embracing  unity  of  the  future  is  still  in  the  making,  the  very 

whatever  anomalies  may  accompany  the  formation  and  growth  of  capital  in  actual 
life,  the  part  played  by  the  will  or  the  strength  of  spirit  remains  in  any  case  essential. 
Since  there  is  no  doubt  that  all  wealth  may  be  squandered,  the  mere  fact  of  saving  it 
is  an  obvious  merit  of  will  on  the  part  of  the  saver  ; it  is  null  in  comparison  with 
merits  of  a different  and  higher  order,  but  in  their  absence  it  undoubtedly  has  an 
importance  of  its  own. 

1 Even  Roman  law,  thoroughly  individualistic  as  it  was  in  this  respect,  introduced 
an  important  reservation  into  the  formula  quoted  above  : proprietas  est  jus  utendi  et 
abutendi  re  sua  quatenus  juris  ratio  patitur — property  is  the  right  to  use  and  to  abuse  of 
one’s  thing  in  so  far  as  it  is  compatible  with  the  meaning  (or  the  rational  basis)  of 
justice.  But  the  meaning  of  justice  demands  precisely  that  private  caprice  should  be 
limited  by  the  common  good. 


356  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

process  whereby  it  comes  about  demands  mutual  moral  dependence 
between  generations,  in  virtue  of  which  one  does  not  merely 
follow  the  other  but  also  inherits  from  it.  If  it  were  not  for 
the  intentional  and  voluntary  handing  down  of  what  has  been 
acquired,  we  should  have  only  a physical  succession  of  generations, 
the  later  repeating  the  life  of  the  former,  as  is  the  case  with 
animals.  The  most  important  thing,  of  course,  is  the  continuous 
accumulation  of  spiritual  inheritance  ; but  since  it  is  only 
given  to  a few  to  hand  down  to  universal  posterity  permanent 
spiritual  acquisitions,  and  since  moral  demands  are  the  same  for 
all,  it  is  the  right  and  the  duty  of  the  majority  of  men  to  try 
and  improve  the  material  conditions  of  life  for  their  immediate 
successors.  Those  who  wholly  devote  themselves  to  the  service 
of  the  universal  future  and  already  anticipate  it  as  an  ideal 

have  a right  to  refer  to  the  precept  of  taking  no  thought  for 

the  morrow  advocated  in  the  Gospels.  To  imitate  the  lilies 
of  the  field  one  must  be  as  pure  as  they  are,  and  to  be  like 

the  fowls  of  the  air  one  must  be  able  to  fly  as  high.  But 

if  either  purity  or  loftiness  be  lacking,  practical  carelessness 
likens  us  not  to  the  lilies  or  the  birds  of  the  air,  but  to  the 
animal  which,  careless  of  the  future,  grubs  up  the  roots  of  the 
kindly  oak  tree,  and  even,  on  occasion,  devours  its  own  offspring 
instead  of  acorns. 

When  dealing  with  an  institution  which  is  not  immoral  and 
is  based  upon  ideal  foundations  though  it  corresponds  only  to 
the  medium  level  of  morality,  no  serious  moralist  ought  to 
forget  the  unquestionable  truth  that  it  is  far  more  difficult  for 
society  to  rise  above  this  level  than  to  sink  below  it.  Even 
if  socialism  and  theories  akin  to  it  did  intend  to  turn  every 
human  being  into  an  angel,  they  would  certainly  fail  to  do  so;  but 
to  bring  the  human  mass  down  to  the  brutal  stage  is  not  at  all 
difficult.  To  reject  in  the  name  of  the  absolute  moral  ideal  the 
necessary  social  conditions  of  moral  progress  means,  in  the  first 
place,  in  defiance  of  logic,  to  confuse  the  absolute  and  eternal 
value  of  that  which  is  being  realised  with  the  relative  value  of  the 
degree  of  realisation  as  a process  in  time.  Secondly,  it  means 
a thoughtless  attitude  towards  the  absolute  ideal  which,  apart 
from  the  concrete  conditions  of  its  realisation,  becomes  for  man 
an  empty  phrase.  Thirdly,  this  pseudo-moral  uncompromising 


THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION  357 

straightforwardness  means  the  absence  of  the  most  fundamental 
and  elementary  moral  impulse — pity , and  pity  precisely  to 
those  who  are  most  in  need  of  it— to  the  ‘least  of  these.’  To 
preach  absolute  morality  and  reject  all  moralising  institutions,  to 
lay  burdens  too  heavy  to  be  borne  upon  the  weak  and  helpless 
shoulders  of  average  humanity,  is  illogical \ thoughtless , and  immoral. 

Inherited  property  is  the  abiding  realisation  of  moral  inter- 
action in  the  most  intimate  and  the  most  fundamental  social 
group — namely,  in  the  family.  Inherited  wealth  is,  on  the  one 
hand,  the  embodiment  of  pity,  reaching  beyond  the  grave, 
of  the  parents  for  their  children,  and,  on  the  other,  a con- 
crete point  of  departure  for  a pious  memory  of  the  departed 
parents.  With  these  two  is  connected,  at  any  rate  with  regard  to 
the  most  important  kind  of  property — the  property  in  land,  a third 
moral  factor,  viz.  man’s  relation  to  the  external  nature,  i.e.  to  the 
earth.  For  the  majority  of  men  this  relation  can  become  moral 
only  on  condition  of  their  having  inherited  landed  property.  To 
understand  earthly  nature  and  to  love  it  for  its  own  sake  is  given 
to  a few  only  ; but  every  one  becomes  naturally  attached  to  his 
own  native  spot,  to  the  graves  of  his  fathers  and  the  haunts  of 
his  childhood.  It  is  a moral  bond,  and  one  which  extends  human 
solidarity  to  material  nature,  thus  making  a beginning  of  its 
spiritualisation.  This  fact  both  justifies  the  institution  of  in- 
herited property  in  land  and  serves  as  a basis  for  making  it  more 
conformable  to  the  demands  of  morality.  It  is  not  sufficient  to 
recognise  the  ideal  character  which  obviously  attaches  to  such 
property  : it  is  necessary  to  strengthen  and  develop  this 

character,  protecting  it  from  the  low  and  selfish  motives  which 
are  natural  enough  at  the  present  stage  of  human  progress  and 
may  easily  gain  the  upper  hand.  Decisive  check  must  be  put  upon 
the  treatment  of  the  earth  as  a lifeless  instrument  of  rapacious 
exploitation  ; the  plots  of  land  handed  down  from  one  generation 
to  another  must,  in  principle,  be  made  inalienable  and  sufficient 
to  maintain  in  each  person  a moral  attitude  towards  the  earth. 
It  will  be  said  that,  with  the  population  constantly  increasing, 
enough  land  cannot  be  found  both  to  preserve  to  each  what  he  has 
got,  or  even  a part  of  it,  and  to  give  some  to  those  who  have  not 
got  any.  This  objection  appears  to  be  a serious  one,  but  is  in  truth 
either  thoughtless  or  unfair.  It  would  certainly  be  very  absurd 


358  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

to  suggest  as  an  absolute,  separate,  and  independent  measure  that 
an  inalienable  plot  of  land  should  be  secured  to  each  and  all. 
This  measure  may  and  ought  to  be  taken  only  in  connection 
with  another  reform — the  cessation,  namely,  of  that  rapacious 
method  of  cultivation  which  will  end  in  there  not  being  enough 
land  for  any  one,  let  alone  for  all.  And  if  land  is  treated  in  the 
moral  way  and  looked  after  like  a being  whom  one  loves,  the 
minimum  amount  of  land  sufficient  for  each  person  may  become 
so  small  that  there  will  be  enough  for  those  who  have  not  got 
any,  without  doing  injustice  to  those  who  have. 

As  to  the  unlimited  increase  of  population,  it  is  not  ordained  by 
any  physical,  and,  still  less,  by  any  moral  law.  It  is  understood, 
of  course,  that  normal  economics  are  only  possible  in  connection 
with  the  normal  family,  which  is  based  upon  rational  asceticism 
and  not  upon  unchecked  carnal  instincts.  The  immoral  exploita- 
tion of  land  cannot  stop  so  long  as  there  is  immoral  exploitation 
of  woman.  If  man’s  relation  to  his  inner  house  (this  is  the  name 
applied  by  the  Scriptures  to  the  wife)  is  wrong,  his  relation  to  his 
external  house  cannot  be  right  either.  A man  who  beats  his 
wife  cannot  care  for  the  earth  as  he  should.  Speaking  generally, 
the  moral  solution  of  the  economic  question  is  intimately  con- 
nected with  the  whole  problem  of  life  in  the  individual  and  the 
race. 


X 

Just  as  there  can  be  no  physiological  life  without  the  inter- 
change of  substances,  so  there  can  be  no  social  life  without  the 
interchange  of  things  (and  of  signs  representing  them).  This 
important  section  of  human  material  relations  is  studied  on  its 
technical  side  by  political  economy,  financial  and  commercial 
law,  and  falls  within  the  scope  of  moral  philosophy  only  in 
so  far  as  exchange  becomes  fraud.  To  judge  economic  pheno- 
mena and  relations  as  such — to  affirm,  e.g.,  as  some  moralists  do, 
that  money  is  an  evil,  that  there  must  be  no  commerce,  that 
banks  ought  to  be  abolished,  etc. — is  unpardonable  childishness. 
It  is  obvious  that  objects  which  are  thus  condemned  are  morally 
indifferent  or  neutral,  and  become  good  or  evil  only  according  to 
the  quality  and  direction  of  the  will  that  uses  them.  If  we  are 


THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION  359 

to  give  up  money  as  an  evil  because  many  people  use  money  for 
evil  purposes,  we  ought  also  to  give  up  the  power  of  articulate 
speech,  since  many  use  it  for  swearing,  idle  talk,  and  slander ; we 
should  also  have  to  give  up  using  fire  for  fear  of  conflagrations, 
and  water  for  fear  of  persons  committing  suicide  by  drowning. 
In  truth,  however,  money,  commerce,  and  banks  are  not  in  them- 
selves an  evil  but  become  an  evil,  or,  more  exactly,  become  the 
consequence  of  an  already  existing  evil  and  the  cause  of  a new  one, 
when,  instead  of  necessary  interchange,  they  serve  the  purposes  of 
selfish  fraud. 

The  root  of  evil  in  this  case,  as  in  the  whole  of  the  economic 
sphere,  is  one  and  the  same,  namely,  that  the  material  interest  is 
made  dominant  instead  of  subservient,  independent  instead  of 
dependent,  an  end  instead  of  a means.  From  this  poisonous  root 
three  noxious  stems  spring  in  the  domain  of  exchange — falsifica- 
tion, speculation,  and  usury. 

A modern  text-book  of  political  economy  gives  as  a current 
definition  of  commerce  that  it  is  a trade  “consisting  in  the  buying 
and  selling  of  goods  with  the  object  of  gain.”  The  description 
of  commerce  as  the  buying  and  selling  of  goods  is  purely  verbal  ; 
the  important  thing  is  the  purpose  which  is  here  said  to  consist 
entirely  in  the  gain  of  the  trader.1  If,  however,  the  one  object 
of  commerce  is  gain,  all  profitable  falsification  of  goods  and 
all  successful  speculation  is  justified.  And  if  gain  is  the  purpose 
of  commerce,  it  is  certainly  also  the  purpose  of  money-lending  ; 
and  since  the  latter  is  more  profitable  the  higher  the  rate  of 
interest,  unlimited  usury  is  also  justified.  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
such  facts  are  recognised  as  inconsistent  with  the  moral  norm,  it 
must  also  be  recognised  that  commerce  and  exchange  in  general 
may  only  be  a means  of  private  gain  on  condition  that  they  should 
in  the  first  place  serve  the  community  as  a whole  and  fulfil  a 
social  function  for  the  good  of  all. 

From  this  point  of  view  the  economic  anomalies  indicated 
can  only  be  abolished  if  their  immoral  root  is  destroyed.  But 
every  one  understands  that  the  unchecked  growth  of  a plant 
strengthens  its  roots  and  extends  them  in  breadth  and  in  depth,  and 
that  if  the  roots  are  very  deep,  the  stem  must  be  cut  down  first. 

1 I do  not,  of  course,  hold  the  author  of  the  book  responsible  for  this  definition, 
since  he  only  gives  expression  to  the  popular  idea. 


360  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

To  speak  without  metaphors  : apart  from  the  inner,  purely  ideal 
and  verbal  struggle  with  the  vice  of  cupidity,  normal  society 
can  and  ought  decisively  to  oppose  by  means  of  concrete  external 
measures  such  luxurious  growths  of  unlimited  cupidity  as  com- 
mercial falsification,  speculation,  and  usury. 

Falsification  of  goods,  especially  of  the  objects  of  necessary 
consumption,  is  a menace  to  public  welfare  and  is  not  merely 
immoral  but  positively  criminal.  In  some  cases  it  is  regarded  as 
such  even  at  the  present  day,  but  this  view  must  be  worked  out 
more  consistently.  When  the  whole  legal  procedure  and  system 
of  penalties1  is  reformed,  increased  persecution  of  these  special 
offences  will  not  be  an  act  of  cruelty  but  of  justice.  Two  things 
ought  to  be  remembered  in  this  connection  : in  the  first  place, 
that  people  who  suffer  most  from  this  evil  are  the  poor  and 
ignorant,  who  are  unfortunate  enough  as  it  is  ; and  secondly,  that 
the  unchecked  performance  of  these  crimes,  as  of  all  others,  is  in- 
jurious not  only  to  the  victims  but  to  the  criminals  themselves, 
who  may  feel  that  their  immorality  is  justified  and  encouraged  by 
the  condonation  of  society. 

Financial  operations  with  fictitious  values  (the  so-called 
‘speculations  ’)  are  certainly  a social  disease  rather  than  a personal 
crime,  and  the  first  remedy  is  absolute  prohibition  of  institutions 
whereby  this  disease  is  nurtured.  As  to  usury,  the  only  sure 
method  of  abolishing  it  is,  obviously,  universal  development  of 
normal  credit,  not  with  the  object  of  gain  but  as  a charitable 
institution. 

In  discussing  economic  relations  which  ought  to  hold  in  the 
domain  of  labour,  property,  and  exchange,  I have  spoken  throughout 
of  justice  and  right,  conceptions  which  have  also  been  presupposed 
in  the  treatment  of  the  penal  question.  For  the  most  part  the 
terms  ‘justice  ’ and  ‘right’  carry  the  same  meaning.  The  idea  of 
justice,  however,  expresses  a purely  moral  demand,  and  therefore 
belongs  to  the  ethical  sphere,  while  right  determines  a special 
sphere  of  relations — namely,  the  legal  one.  Is  this  distinction 
merely  a misunderstanding  or,  if  it  is  well  grounded,  what  is  the 
meaning  and  the  degree  of  it  ? Turning  now  to  the  question  as 
to  the  relation  of  morality  and  legal  justice  or  right,  we  may  note, 
without  prejudging  the  content  of  our  inquiry,  that  the  question 


1 See  above,  Part  III.,  Chap.  VI. 


THE  ECONOMIC  QUESTION  361 

is  an  extremely  wide  one,  for  the  idea  of  right  inevitably  involves  a 
series  of  other  ideas — law,  authority,  legal  compulsion,  state.  In 
discussing  the  organisation  of  just  social  relations  I took  these  ideas 
for  granted,  since  such  an  organisation  can  obviously  not  be  realised 
through  moral  preaching  alone. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MORALITY  AND  LEGAL  JUSTICE 

I 

The  absolute  moral  principle,  the  demand , namely,  or  the  command- 
ment to  be  perfect  as  our  Father  in  heaven  is  perfect,  or  to  realise 
in  ourselves  the  image  and  likeness  of  God,  already  contains  in  its 
very  nature  the  recognition  of  the  relative  element  in  morality. 
For  it  is  clear  that  the  demand  for  perfection  can  only  be  addressed 
to  a being  who  is  imperfect  ; urging  him  to  become  like  the  higher 
being,  the  commandment  presupposes  the  lower  stages  and  the 
relative  degrees  of  advance.  Thus,  the  absolute  moral  principle 
or  the  perfect  good  is  for  us,  to  use  Hegel’s  language,  a unity  of 
itself  and  its  other,  a synthesis  of  the  absolute  and  the  relative. 
The  existence  of  the  relative  or  the  imperfect,  as  distinct  from  the 
absolute  good,  is  a fact  not  to  be  got  over,  and  to  deny  it,  to 
confuse  the  two  terms,  or,  with  the  help  of  dialectical  tricks  and 
on  the  strength  of  mystical  emotions,  to  affirm  them  as  identical, 
would  be  false.  Equally  false,  however,  is  the  opposite  course — 
the  separation , namely,  of  the  relative  from  the  absolute,  as  of  two 
wholly  distinct  spheres  which  have  nothing  in  common.  From 
this  dualistic  point  of  view  man  himself,  whose  striving  towards 
the  absolute  is  inseparably  connected  with  relative  conditions, 
proves  to  be  the  incarnation  of  absurdity.  The  only  rational 
point  of  view,  which  both  reason  and  conscience  compel  us  to 
adopt,  consists  in  recognising  that  the  actual  duality  between  the 
relative  and  the  absolute  resolves  itself  for  us  into  a free  and 
complete  unity  (but  not  by  any  means  into  an  empty  identity  of 
indifference)  through  the  real  and  moral  process  of  approaching 

362 


MORALITY  AND  LEGAL  JUSTICE  363 

perfection — a process  ranging  from  the  rigid  stone  to  the  glory 
and  freedom  of  the  sons  of  God. 

At  each  stage  the  relative  is  connected  with  the  absolute 
as  a means  for  concretely  bringing  about  the  perfection  of  all ; 
and  this  connection  justifies  the  lesser  good  as  a condition  of 
the  greater.  At  the  same  time  it  justifies  the  absolute  good  itself, 
which  would  not  be  absolute  if  it  could  not  connect  with  itself  or 
include  in  one  way  or  another  all  concrete  relations.  And  indeed, 
nowhere  in  the  world  accessible  to  us  do  we  find  the  two 
terms  in  separation  or  in  their  bare  form.  Everywhere  the 
absolute  principle  is  clothed  with  relative  forms,  and  the  relative 
is  inwardly  connected  with  the  absolute  and  held  together  by  it. 
The  difference  lies  simply  in  the  comparative  predominance  of 
one  or  the  other  aspect. 

When  some  two  species  of  concrete  relations  or  some  two 
domains  within  which  they  are  exemplified  are  separated  from  and 
opposed  to  one  another,  one  being  regarded  as  absolute  and  another 
as  purely  relative  in  meaning,  we  may  be  certain  that  the  opposi- 
tion itself  is  purely  relative.  Each  of  the  two  domains  is  simply 
a special  instance  of  the  relation  between  the  absolute  and  the 
relative, — relation  different  in  form  and  degree,  but  identical  in 
nature  and  supreme  purpose.  And  it  is  in  this  relation  of  both 
to  the  absolute  that  the  positive  connection  or  the  unity  of  the 
two  consists. 

Within  the  limits  of  the  active  or  practical  life  of  humanity 
there  is  apparent  opposition  between  the  moral  sphere  in  the 
strict  sense  and  the  sphere  of  legal  justice.  From  ancient  times, 
beginning  with  the  pagan  Cynics  and  the  Christian  gnostics,  and 
down  to  our  own  day,  this  opposition  has  been  taken  to  be  un- 
conditional. Morality  alone  has  been  regarded  as  absolute,  and 
legal  justice,  as  a purely  conventional  phenomenon,  has  been 
rejected  in  the  name  of  the  absolute  demands.  One  immediately 
feels  that  this  view  is  false,  but  moral  philosophy  compels  us  to 
disregard  this  feeling  which  may,  after  all,  be  deceptive,  and  to 
consider  the  true  relation  between  morality  and  legal  justice 
from  the  standpoint  of  the  absolute  good.  Is  this  good  justified 
by  its  relation  to  justice  ? A person  interested  in  etymology 
may  note  that  the  answer  is  already  contained  in  the  terms  of 
the  question.  This  philological  circumstance  will  be  discussed 


364  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

further  on,  but  it  must  not  as  such  prejudge  the  philosophic 
problem. 


II 

In  his  lectures  on  Criminal  Law  Professor  N.  S.  Tagantsev 
quotes,  among  other  things,  the  following  Prussian  enactment  of 
the  year  1739  : 

“ If  an  advocate  or  a procurator  or  any  similar  person  ventures 
to  present  any  petition  to  his  Royal  Majesty,  either  personally 
or  through  somebody  else,  it  is  the  pleasure  of  his  Royal  Majesty 
that  the  aforesaid  person  should  be  hanged  without  mercy,  and  a 
dog  be  hanged  by  the  side  of  him.” 

Of  the  legality  or  conformity  to  law  of  the  enactment  in 
question  there  can  be  no  doubt ; and  there  can  be  equally  no 
doubt  of  its  being  opposed  to  the  most  elementary  demands  of 
justice.  The  opposition  seems  to  be  intentionally  emphasised  by 
extending  the  punishment  of  the  advocate  or  procurator  to  the 
perfectly  innocent  dog.  Similar,  though  not  such  glaring  cases  of 
disagreement  between  morality  and  positive  right,  between  justice 
and  law,  are  frequently  met  with  in  history.  The  question  must 
then  be  asked,  how  is  this  fact  to  be  regarded,  and  which  of 
the  two  conflicting  principles  are  we  to  adopt  in  practical  life  ? 
The  answer  appears  to  be  clear.  Moral  demands  have  an  inherent 
character  of  being  absolutely  binding,  which  may  be  entirely 
absent  from  the  enactments  of  positive  law.  Hence  the  conclusion 
seems  legitimate  that  the  question  as  to  the  relation  between 
morality  and  legal  justice  is  settled  by  a simple  rejection  of  the 
latter  as  a binding  principle  of  action.  All  human  relations  must 
accordingly  be  reduced  to  purely  moral  interaction,  and  the  sphere 
of  the  legal  or  juridical  determinations  and  relations  must  be 
entirely  rejected. 

This  conclusion  is  very  easily  thought  of,  but  is  also  extremely 
thoughtless.  This  c antinomy,’  or  the  absolute  opposition  between 
morality  and  law,  has  never  subjected  its  fundamental  assumption 
to  any  consistent  or  far-reaching  criticism. 

That  a formally  legal  enactment,  such  as  the  edict  of  the  king 
of  Prussia,  quoted  above,  is  opposed  to  the  demands  of  morality  is 
only  too  obvious.  But  it  may  well  be  that  it  is  also  opposed  to 


MORALITY  AND  LEGAL  JUSTICE  365 

the  demands  of  legal  justice  itself.  The  possibility  of  conflict 
between  the  formal  legality  of  certain  actions  and  the  essence  of 
legal  justice  will  become  clearer  to  the  reader  if  I give  a concrete 
instance  of  an  analogous  conflict  between  the  formally -moral 
character  of  an  action  and  the  true  nature  of  morality. 

It  was  reported  in  the  papers  a little  while  ago  that  a woman 
suspected  of  causing  the  illness  of  a boy  by  means  of  a bewitched 
apple  was  terribly  injured  and  almost  killed  by  the  crowd  in  the 
centre  of  Moscow — near  St.  Panteleimon’s  Chapel  in  Nikolsky 
Street.  Now  these  people  acted  independently  of  any  interested 
motives  or  external  considerations  ; they  had  no  personal  enmity  to 
the  woman  and  no  personal  interest  in  beating  her  ; their  sole 
motive  was  the  feeling  that  so  outrageous  a crime  as  the  poisoning 
of  an  innocent  babe  by  means  of  sorcery  ought  to  meet  with  just 
retribution.  Thus  it  cannot  be  denied  that  their  behaviour  had  a 
formally- moral  character,  though  every  one  will  agree  that  it 
certainly  was  essentially  immoral.  If,  however,  the  fact  that 
revolting  crimes  may  be  committed  from  purely  moral  motives 
does  not  lead  us  to  reject  morality  as  such,  there  is  no  reason  why 
such  essentially  unjust,  though  legal,  enactments  as  the  Prussian 
law  of  1739  should  be  regarded  as  sufficient  ground  for  rejecting 
legal  justice.  In  the  case  of  the  crime  in  Nikolsky  Street  it  is 
not  the  moral  principle  that  is  at  fault,  but  the  insufficient  develop- 
ment of  the  moral  consciousness  in  the  half-savage  crowd  ; in  the 
case  of  the  absurd  Prussian  law  it  is  not  the  idea  of  legal  justice 
or  law  that  is  at  fault,  but  only  the  small  degree  to  which  the  idea 
of  justice  was  developed  in  the  consciousness  of  King  Friedrich- 
Wilhelm.  It  would  not  be  worth  while  to  discuss  the  subject 
were  it  not  for  the  bad  habit,  which  has  become  established  of 
late,  especially  with  reference  to  legal  questions,  to  deduce, 
contrary  to  logic,  general  conclusions  from  concrete  particular 
instances. 

Ill 

It  is  not  legal  justice  and  morality  that  conflict  and  are  incom- 
patible with  one  another,  but  the  different  states  both  of  the  legal 
and  the  moral  consciousness.  Apart  from  these  states  and  their 
concrete  expressions,  there  exist,  however,  in  the  domain  of  legal 


366  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

justice,  just  as  much  as  in  the  domain  of  morality,  abiding  and 
essential  norms,  the  presence  of  which  is  unconsciously  admitted 
even  by  the  spirit  of  lying,  in  his  sophistic  attack  on  jurisprudence  : 

All  rights  and  laws  are  still  transmitted 
Like  an  eternal  sickness  of  the  race, — 

From  generation  unto  generation  fitted 
And  shifted  round  from  place  to  place. 

Reason  becomes  a sham,  Beneficence  a worry  : 

Thou  art  a grandchild,  therefore  woe  to  thee. 

The  right  born  with  us,  ours  in  verity 
This  to  consider,  there’s,  alas  ! no  hurry. 

Even  Mephistopheles  recognises  this  natural  right , and  merely 
complains  that  it  is  ignored.1  In  truth,  however,  it  is  referred  to 
whenever  a question  of  right  arises.  No  fact  belonging  to  the 
legal  sphere,  no  expression  of  legal  justice,  can  be  judged  of  except 
by  reference  to  a general  conception  or  norm  of  justice.  Mephis- 
topheles himself  applies  this  conception  or  norm  when  he  says 
that  certain  rights  and  laws,  once  rational  and  beneficial,  have 
become  senseless  and  mischievous.  He  indicates  here  one  aspect 
of  the  case  only,  namely,  the  so-called  conservatism  of  legal  justice. 
This  fact,  too,  has  its  rational  foundation,  and  the  disadvantages 
which  it  involves,  and  upon  which  Mephistopheles  exclusively 
dwells,  are  cancelled  by  another  fact,  not  mentioned  by  the  spirit 
of  lying  for  his  own  reasons — the  fact,  namely,  that  legal  con- 
sciousness gradually  develops,  and  that  legal  enactments  are,  as 
a fact,  improved.  This  unquestionable  progress  in  the  domain 
of  legal  justice  can  be  shown  even  in  the  case  of  the  unjust  law 
quoted  above.  I do  not  simply  mean  that  enactments  like  the 
Prussian  edict  of  1739  have  become  utterly  impossible  in  any 
European  country,  and  that  the  penalty  of  death  even  for  the 
worst  and  unquestionable  crimes  has  long  been  condemned  by  the 
best  representatives  of  the  legal  profession.  I contend  that  this 
edict  itself  meant  unquestionable  progress  in  comparison  with 
the  state  of  things  which  had  once  prevailed  in  Brandenburg  and 
Pomerania,  as  in  the  rest  of  Europe,  when  every  powerful  baron 
could  calmly  put  peaceful  people  to  death  for  motives  of  personal 

1 Apart  from  the  direct  meaning  of  this  remark,  it  may  be  regarded  as  a kind  of 
prophecy  of  the  persecution  which,  a quarter  of  a century  after  Goethe’s  death,  the  idea 
of  the  natural  right  suffered  in  jurisprudence.  There  are  signs  which  show  that  this 
persecution  is  coming  to  an  end. 


MORALITY  AND  LEGAL  JUSTICE  367 

vengeance,  or  for  the  sake  of  seizing  their  property.  At  the  time 
of  Frederick  the  Great’s  father  it  was  the  king  alone  who  had  the 
power  to  take  a man’s  life,  and,  in  doing  so,  he  had  no  personal 
or  selfish  purpose  in  view.  It  is  obvious,  indeed,  that  Friedrich 
Wilhelm’s  object  in  composing  his  edict  was  to  put  down  denun- 
ciation and  slander  by  the  threat  of  the  penalty  of  death,  and  not 
actually  to  deprive  of  life  advocates,  procurators,  and  dogs.  The 
barons  of  the  old  times  were  unquestionably  guilty  of  murder  and 
robbery,  but  the  king,  even  when  publishing  the  revolting  edict, 
was  still  acting  as  the  guardian  of  justice,  though  at  a very  low 
level  of  legal  consciousness. 

This  difference  of  degree,  this  actual  progress  in  legal  justice, 
the  steady  advance  of  the  legal  enactments  towards  legal  norms, 
conformable  to,  though  not  identical  with,  the  moral  demands, 
sufficiently  proves  that  the  relation  between  the  two  principles 
is  not  merely  negative.  It  shows  that  it  is  unpermissible  from 
the  point  of  view  of  morality  itself  to  dismiss  the  whole  range  of 
legal  facts  and  problems  by  a simple  and  meaningless  rejection 
of  them. 


IV 

The  relation  between  the  moral  and  the  legal  sphere  is 
one  of  the  fundamental  questions  of  practical  philosophy.  It 
is  really  the  question  as  to  the  relation  between  the  ideal  moral 
consciousness  and  the  actual  life.  The  vitality  and  the  fruitfulness 
of  the  moral  consciousness  depends  upon  this  relation  being  under- 
stood in  a positive  sense.  Between  the  ideal  good  on  the  one 
hand  and  the  evil  reality  on  the  other  lies  the  intermediate  sphere 
of  law  and  justice,  whose  function  is  to  give  concrete  embodiment 
to  the  good,  to  limit  and  to  correct  the  evil.  Justice  and  its 
embodiment — the  state — condition  the  actual  organisation  of  the 
moral  life  of  humanity.  Moral  preaching  which  takes  up  a 
negative  attitude  towards  justice  as  such  could  have  no  objective 
basis  or  means  of  expression  in  the  real  environment  that  is  foreign 
to  it,  and  would  remain  at  best  an  innocent  pastime.  If,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  formal  conceptions  and  institutions  of  legal  justice 
were  completely  severed  from  the  moral  principles  and  purposes, 
legality  would  lose  its  absolute  basis  and  become  purely  arbitrary. 


368  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

Indeed,  in  order  consistently  to  carry  out  the  separation  between 
legal  right  and  morality  it  would  be  necessary  to  give  up  the 
ordinary  use  of  speech,  which,  in  all  languages,  unmistakably  testifies 
to  the  fundamental  inner  relation  between  the  two  ideas.  The 
conception  of  right  and  the  correlative  conception  of  duty  form  so 
essential  a part  of  the  system  of  moral  ideas  that  they  may  serve 
as  a direct  expression  of  them.  Every  one  understands  and  no  one 
would  dispute  such  moral  affirmations  as  : I am  conscious  of  the 
duty  to  abstain  from  everything  shameful,  or,  what  is  the  same 
thing,  I recognise  that  human  dignity  (in  my  own  person)  has  a 
right  to  my  respect  ; it  is  my  duty  to  help  my  neighbours  as  much 
as  in  me  lies  and  to  serve  the  common  good,  i.e.  my  neighbours 
and  society  as  a whole  have  a right  to  my  help  and  service  ; finally, 
it  is  my  duty  to  harmonise  my  will  with  what  I regard  as  the 
highest  of  all,  or,  in  other  words,  the  absolutely  highest  has  a right 
to  a religious  attitude  on  my  part  (which  is  the  ultimate  basis  of 
all  religious  worship). 

There  is  not  a single  moral  relation  which  could  not  be 
correctly  and  intelligibly  expressed  in  terms  of  right.  One  would 
think  that  nothing  could  be  more  remote  from  the  juridical  order 
of  ideas  than  love  for  one’s  enemies.  And  yet  if  the  supreme 
moral  law  proclaims  it  my  duty  to  love  my  enemies,  it  is  clear  that 
my  enemies  have  a right  to  my  love.  If  I deny  love  to  them,  I 
act  unjustly,  I sin  against  what  is  right.  Here  we  have  a term 
which  alone  embodies  the  essential  unity  of  the  juridical  and  the 
moral  principles.1  For  rights  are  nothing  more  than  the  expression 
of  what  is  right,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  all  virtues2  are  reducible 
to  the  idea  of  right  or  justice,  i.e.  to  what  is  right  or  due  in  the 
ethical  sense.  This  is  not  a case  of  accidental  similarity  of  terms, 
but  of  essential  homogeneity  and  inner  connection  of  the  ideas 
themselves. 

It  does  not,  of  course,  follow  that  the  sphere  of  legal  justice 
and  morality  coincide,  or  that  the  moral  and  the  juridical  concep- 

1 In  all  languages,  moral  and  juridical  conceptions  are  expressed  either  by  the  same 
terms  or  by  terms  derived  from  the  same  root.  The  Russian  dolg,  like  the  Latin  debitum 
(hence  the  French  devoir)  and  the  German  Schuld  have  both  a moral  and  a juridical 
meaning  ; in  the  case  of  5t kt]  and  Su<aio<r6vr],jus  and  justitia,  of  the  Russian  pravo  and 
pravda , the  German  Recht  and  Gerechtigkeit , the  English  right  and  righteousness,  the  two 
meanings  are  distinguished  by  the  use  of  suffixes.  Cp.  also  the  Hebrew  tsedek  and  tsedakah. 

2 See  above,  Part  I.,  Chapter  V.  : “ Virtues.” 


MORALITY  AND  LEGAL  JUSTICE  369 

tions  should  be  confused.  One  thing  only  is  indisputable,  namely, 
that  there  is  a positive  and  intimate  relation  between  the  two 
spheres,  which  does  not  permit  of  one  being  rejected  in  the  name 
of  the  other.  The  question,  then,  is  in  what  precisely  does  the 
connection  and  the  difference  between  them  consist. 

V 

The  fact  that  we  speak  of  moral  right  and  moral  duty,  on  the 
one  hand  proves  the  absence  of  any  fundamental  opposition  or 
incompatibility  of  the  moral  and  the  juridical  principles,  and, 
on  the  other,  indicates  an  essential  difference  between  them.  In 
designating  a given  right  (e.g.  the  right  of  my  enemy  to  my  love) 
as  moral  only,  we  imply  that  in  addition  to  the  moral  there 
exist  other  rights,  i.e.  rights  in  a more  restricted  sense,  or  that 
there  exists  right  as  such , which  is  not  directly  and  immediately 
characterised  as  moral.  Take,  on  the  one  hand,  the  duty  of  loving 
our  enemies  and  their  corresponding  right  to  our  love,  and  on  the 
other,  take  the  duty  to  pay  one’s  debts,  or  the  duty  not  to  rob 
and  murder  one’s  neighbours  and  their  corresponding  right  not  to 
be  robbed,  murdered,  or  deceived  by  us.  It  is  obvious  that  there 
is  an  essential  difference  between  the  two  kinds  of  relation,  and 
that  only  the  second  of  them  falls  within  the  scope  of  justice  in 
the  narrow  sense  of  the  term. 

The  difference  can  be  reduced  to  three  main  points  : 

(1)  A purely  moral  demand,  such,  e.g.,  as  the  love  for  one’s 
enemies,  is  unlimited  or  all-embracing  in  nature  ; it  presupposes 
moral  perfection,  or,  at  any  rate,  an  unlimited  striving  towards 
perfection.  Every  limitation  admitted  as  a matter  of  principle  is 
opposed  to  the  nature  of  the  moral  commandment  and  under- 
mines its  dignity  and  significance.  If  a person  gives  up  the 
absolute  moral  ideal  as  a principle,  he  gives  up  morality  itself  and 
leaves  the  moral  ground.  Juridical  law,  on  the  contrary,  is 
essentially  limited,  as  is  clearly  seen  in  all  cases  of  its  application. 
In  the  place  of  perfection  it  demands  the  lowest,  the  minimum 
degree  of  morality,  that  is,  simply,  actual  restraint  of  certain 
manifestations  of  the  immoral  will.  This  distinction,  however,  is 
not  an  opposition  leading  to  real  conflict.  From  the  moral  point 
of  view  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  demand  conscientiously  to 


370  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

fulfil  monetary  obligations,  to  abstain  from  murder,  robbery,  etc.,  is 
a demand  for  what  is  good — though  extremely  elementary — and 
not  for  what  is  evil.  It  is  clear  that  if  we  ought  to  love  our 
enemies,  it  goes  without  saying  that  we  ought  to  respect  the  life  and 
property  of  all  fellow-men.  The  higher  commandments  cannot 
be  fulfilled  without  observing  the  lower.  As  to  the  juridical 
side  of  the  matter,  though  the  civil  or  the  penal  law  does  not 
demand  the  supreme  moral  perfection,  it  is  not  opposed  to  it.  For- 
bidding every  one  to  murder  or  be  fraudulent,  it  cannot,  and  indeed 
has  no  need  to,  prevent  any  one  from  loving  his  enemies.  Thus 
with  regard  to  this  point  (which  in  certain  moral  theories  is 
erroneously  taken  to  be  the  only  important  one),  the  relation 
between  the  two  principles  of  the  practical  life  may  be  only 
expressed  by  saying  that  legal  justice  is  the  lowest  limit  or  the 
minimum  degree  of  morality. 

(2)  The  unlimited  character  of  the  purely  moral  demands  leads 
to  another  point  of  difference.  The  way  in  which  such  demands 
are  to  be  fulfilled  is  not  definitely  prescribed,  nor  is  it  limited  to 
any  concrete  external  manifestations  or  material  actions.  The 
commandment  to  love  one’s  enemies  does  not  indicate,  except 
as  an  example,  what  precisely  we  ought  to  do  in  virtue  of  that 
love,  i.e.  which  particular  actions  we  ought  to  perform  and  from 
which  to  abstain.  At  the  same  time,  if  love  is  expressed  by 
means  of  definite  actions,  the  moral  commandment  cannot  be 
regarded  as  already  fulfilled  by  these  actions  and  as  demanding 
nothing  further.  The  task  of  fulfilling  the  commandment,  which 
is  an  expression  of  the  absolute  perfection,  remains  infinite. 
Juridical  laws,  on  the  contrary,  prescribe  or  prohibit  perfectly 
definite  external  actions,  with  the  performance  or  non-perform- 
ance of  which  the  law  is  satisfied  and  demands  nothing  further. 
If  I produce  in  due  time  the  money  I am  owing,  and  pass  it  to 
my  creditor,  if  I do  not  murder  or  rob  any  one,  etc.,  the  law 
is  satisfied  and  wants  nothing  more  from  me.  This  difference 
between  the  moral  and  the  juridical  law  once  more  involves  no 
contradiction.  The  demand  for  the  moral  inner  disposition,  so 
far  from  excluding  external  actions,  directly  presupposes  them  as 
its  own  proof  or  justification.  No  one  would  believe  in  the 
inward  goodness  of  a man  if  it  never  showed  itself  in  any  works 
of  mercy.  On  the  other  hand,  the  request  to  perform  definite 


MORALITY  AND  LEGAL  JUSTICE  371 

actions  is  in  no  way  opposed  to  the  inner  states  corresponding  to 
them,  though  it  does  not  demand  them.  Both  the  moral  and  the 
juridical  laws  are  concerned  with  the  inner  being  of  man,  with 
his  will  ; but  while  the  first  takes  this  will  in  its  universality  and 
entirety,  the  second  has  only  to  do  with  particular  expressions  of 
it  in  respect  of  certain  external  facts,  which  fall  within  the 
province  of  justice  in  the  narrow  sense, — such  as  the  inviolability 
of  the  life  and  property  of  each  person,  etc.  What  is  of  im- 
portance from  the  juridical  point  of  view  is  precisely  the  objective 
expression  of  our  will  in  committing  or  in  refraining  from  certain 
actions.  This  is  another  essential  characteristic  of  legal  justice, 
and,  in  addition  to  the  original  definition  of  it  as  a certain 
minimum  of  morality,  we  may  now  say  that  legal  justice  is  the 
demand  for  the  realisation  of  this  minimum,  i.e.  for  carrying  out  a 
certain  minimum  of  the  goof  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  for  doing 
away  with  a certain  amount  of  evil.  Morality  in  the  strict  sense 
is  immediately  concerned,  not  with  the  external  realisation  of  the 
good,  but  with  its  inner  existence  in  the  heart  of  man. 

(3)  This  second  distinction  involves  a third  one.  The  demand 
for  moral  perfection  as  an  inner  state  presupposes  free  or  voluntary 
fulfilment.  Not  only  physical  but  even  psychological  compulsion 
is  here,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  both  undesirable  and  impossible. 
External  realisation  of  a certain  uniform  order,  on  the  contrary, 
admits  of  direct  or  indirect  compulsion.  And  in  so  far  as  the  direct 
and  immediate  purpose  of  legal  justice  is  precisely  the  realisation 
or  the  external  embodiment  of  a certain  good — e.g.  of  public  safety 
— in  so  far  the  compelling  character  of  the  law  is  a necessity  ; for 
no  genuine  person  could  seriously  maintain  that  by  means  of 
verbal  persuasion  alone  all  murders,  frauds,  etc.,  could  be  im- 
mediately stopped. 


VI 

Combining  the  three  characteristics  indicated  we  obtain  the 
following  definition  of  legal  justice  in  its  relation  to  morality  : 
legal  justice  is  a compulsory  demand  for  the  realisation  of  a definite 
minimum  of  the  good , or  for  a social  order  which  excludes  certain 
manifestations  of  evil. 

The  question  has  now  to  be  asked,  what  is  the  ground  for  such 


372  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

a demand,  and  in  what  way  is  this  compulsory  order  compatible 
with  the  purely  moral  order,  which  apparently  by  its  very  nature 
excludes  all  compulsion.  It  may  be  urged  that  once  the  perfect 
good  is  established  in  consciousness  as  an  ideal,  each  ought  to  be 
allowed  freely  to  realise  it  as  much  as  in  him  lies.  Why,  it  will 
be  said,  make  into  a law  the  compulsory  minimum  of  morality, 
when  we  ought  freely  to  fulfil  the  maximum  ? Why  declare 
under  penalty,  ‘ Thou  shalt  not  kill,’  when  we  ought  mildly  to 
exhort  people  not  to  be  angry? 

All  this  would  be  perfectly  true  were  the  moral  problem  a 
theoretical  one  and  were  the  perfect  good  compatible  with  selfish 
impassibility  or  indifference  to  the  sufferings  of  others.  But 
since  the  true  conception  of  the  good  necessarily  includes  the 
principle  of  altruism,  which  demands  corresponding  behaviour  on 
our  part,  i.e.  demands  that  compassion  for  the  ills  of  others 
should  prompt  us  actively  to  save  them  from  evil,  moral  duty 
certainly  requires  us  to  do  more  than  simply  to  profess  the 
perfect  ideal.  In  the  natural  course  of  things,  which  ought  not 
to  be  approved  of  or  acquiesced  in,  but  which  it  is  childish  not  to 
take  into  account,  what  would  happen  is  this  : whilst  some  would 
be  freely  striving  towards  the  supreme  ideal  and  grow  perfect  in 
impassibility,  others  would  exercise  themselves,  unhindered,  in 
every  conceivable  crime  and  would  certainly  exterminate  the  first 
before  they  could  attain  a high  degree  of  moral  perfection.  But 
even  supposing  that  men  of  good  will  were  by  some  miracle  saved 
from  extermination  by  the  bad  ones,  these  good  men  themselves 
would  obviously  prove  to  be  insufficiently  good  if  they  would  be 
content  with  pious  conversations  about  the  good,  instead  of  actively 
helping  their  neighbours  and  protecting  them  against  the  extreme 
and  destructive  forms  of  evil. 

Moral  interest  demands  personal  freedom  as  a condition  apart 
from  which  human  dignity  and  higher  moral  development  is 
impossible.  But  man  cannot  exist,  and,  consequently,  cannot 
perfect  his  freedom  and  his  moral  nature  apart  from  society. 
Moral  interest  therefore  demands  that  personal  freedom  should 
not  conflict  with  the  conditions  which  render  the  existence  of 
society  possible.  This  demand  cannot  be  carried  into  effect  by 
means  of  the  ideal  of  moral  perfection,  which  the  individual  is 
to  attain  by  his  own  free  efforts.  For  the  essential  practical 


MORALITY  AND  LEGAL  JUSTICE  373 

purpose  before  us  this  ideal  gives  both  too  much  and  too  little — 
its  demands  are  too  great  and  its  concrete  results  too  small.  Of 
the  person  who  recognises  it,  the  ideal  demands  that  he  should 
love  his  enemies  ; but  it  cannot  compel  those  who  do  not  recognise 
its  demands  to  abstain  even  from  murder  and  robbery.  The 
strict  moralist  will  perhaps  say,  ‘ We  don’t  want  people  to  abstain 
from  crimes  unless  they  do  so  voluntarily  ’ ; but  in  saying  this 
he  would  be  guilty  of  obvious  injustice.  He  will  have  forgotten 
to  ask  the  opinion  of  the  plundered  people  themselves  and  of  the 
families  whose  members  have  been  murdered — as  though  the 
injury  they  had  suffered  is  the  ground  for  regarding  them  as 
completely  rightless. 

The  moral  law  has  been  given  to  man  ‘that  he  might  live 
thereby’;  and  if  human  society  did  not  exist,  morality  would 
remain  merely  an  abstract  idea.  The  existence  of  society,  however, 
depends  not  on  the  perfection  of  some,  but  on  the  security  of 
all.  This  security  is  not  guaranteed  by  the  moral  law,  which 
is  non-existent  for  persons  in  whom  anti-social  instincts  pre- 
dominate, but  it  is  safeguarded  by  the  compulsory  law  which  has 
actual  power  over  every  one.  To  appeal  to  the  gracious  power 
of  Providence  to  restrain  and  exhort  lunatics  and  criminals  is 
sheer  blasphemy.  It  is  impious  to  lay  upon  the  Deity  that  which 
can  be  successfully  performed  by  a good  legal  system. 

The  moral  principle  demands,  then,  that  men  should  freely 
seek  perfection.  To  this  end  the  existence  of  society  is  necessary. 
Society  cannot  exist  if  each  person  wishing  to  do  so  may, 
without  let  or  hindrance,  rob  and  murder  his  neighbours.  Hence 
the  compulsory  law,  which  actually  prevents  these  extreme  expres- 
sions of  the  evil  will,  is  a necessary  condition  of  moral  perfection  ; 
as  such  it  is  demanded  by  the  moral  principle  itself,  though  it 
is  not  a direct  expression  of  it. 

Let  it  be  granted  that  the  highest  morality,  on  its  ascetic 
side,  demands  that  I should  be  indifferent  to  the  prospect  of 
being  killed,  mutilated,  or  robbed.  But  the  same  supreme 
morality  on  its  altruistic  side  does  not  permit  me  to  remain 
indifferent  to  the  fact  that  my  neighbours  may,  without  inter- 
ference from  any  one,  become  murderers  or  be  murdered, 
robbers  or  the  robbed,  and  that  society,  apart  from  which 
the  individual  cannot  live  and  develop,  should  run  the  risk  of 


374  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

being  destroyed.  Such  indifference  would  be  a clear  sign  of 
moral  death. 

The  demand  for  personal  liberty  presupposes  for  its  realisation 
the  restriction  of  that  liberty  to  the  extent  in  which,  at  the 
given  state  of  humanity,  it  is  incompatible  with  the  existence  of 
society  or  with  the  common  good.  From  the  point  of  view  of 
abstract  thought  there  appears  to  be  an  opposition  between 
these  two  interests,  both  of  which  are  equally  binding  morally. 
In  reality,  however,  they  coincide,  and  legal  justice  is  the  off- 
spring of  their  union. 

VII 

The  principle  of  legal  justice  may  be  considered  in  the 
abstract,  and  in  that  case  it  is  simply  a direct  expression  of  moral 
justice.  I affirm  my  freedom  as  my  right  in  so  far  as  I recognise 
the  freedom  of  others  as  their  right  ; but  the  conception  of 
right  necessarily  involves,  as  we  have  seen,  an  objective  element, 
or  a demand  to  be  realised.  Right  must  be  capable  of  realisation  : 
that  is,  the  freedom  of  others,  whether  recognised  by  me  or 
not,  must,  independently  of  my  personal  feeling  of  justice, 
restrict  my  freedom  within  limits  equally  binding  upon  every  one. 
This  demand  for  compulsory  justice  follows  from  the  idea  of 
the  common  good  or  public  interest,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing, 
from  the  idea  of  the  realisation  of  the  good,  which  inevitably 
requires  that  justice  should  be  an  actual  fact  and  not  an  idea 
merely.  The  degree  and  the  means  of  the  realisation  depend, 
of  course,  upon  the  state  of  the  moral  consciousness  in  the  given 
society  and  upon  other  historical  conditions.  The  natural  right 
thus  becomes  the  positive  right,  and  can,  from  this  point  of  view, 
be  formulated  as  follows  : legal  justice  is  the  historically  changeable 
determination  of  the  necessary  equilibrium , maintained  by  compulsion , 
between  two  moral  interests— that  of  personal  freedom  and  of  the 
common  good. 

It  would  be  a fatal  confusion  of  ideas  to  believe  that  justice 
has  for  its  purpose  material  equalisation  of  private  interests. 
Justice  as  such  has  nothing  to  do  with  this.  It  is  concerned 
only  with  the  two  main  factors  of  human  life — the  freedom  of 
the  individual  and  the  good  of  society.  When  legal  justice 


MORALITY  AND  LEGAL  JUSTICE  375 

limits  itself  to  this  and  does  not  introduce  the  element  of  com- 
pulsion into  private  relations,  it  does  the  best  service  to  morality. 
The  individual  must  be  moral  by  his  free  choice,  and  for  that 
he  must  have  a certain  freedom  to  be  immoral.  Within  certain 
limits  justice  secures  this  freedom  to  him,  though  it  in  no  way 
inclines  him  to  take  advantage  of  it.  Had  not  the  creditor  the 
right  to  compel  his  debtor  to  pay  the  money  owing  to  him,  he 
would  not  be  able  by  a free  moral  act  to  renounce  his  right  and 
to  forgive  a poor  man  his  debt.  On  the  other  hand,  the  fact 
that  the  debtor  is  compelled  to  abide  by  the  obligation  he  has 
freely  entered  upon,  preserves  his  freedom  and  his  full  rights  in 
relation  to  the  creditor  : he  is  not  dependent  upon  the  creditor’s 
will  but  upon  his  own  decision  and  the  law  of  the  land.  The 
interest  of  individual  freedom  coincides  in  this  case  with  the 
interest  of  the  common  good,  since  without  the  security  of  free 
contracts  there  can  be  no  normal  social  life. 

The  harmony  of  the  two  moral  interests  is  still  more  obvious 
in  the  case  of  the  penal  law.  It  is  clear  that  the  freedom  of 
the  individual,  or  his  natural  right  to  live  and  to  strive  for 
perfection,  would  be  an  empty  sound  if  it  depended  upon  the 
whim  of  every  other  individual  who  might  want  to  murder  or 
to  cripple  his  neighbour,  or  to  deprive  him  of  the  means  of 
subsistence.  It  is  our  moral  right  to  defend  our  freedom  and 
safety  from  the  attacks  made  upon  it  by  the  evil  will  of  others, 
and  it  is  our  moral  duty  to  help  other  people  to  do  the  same. 
This  common  duty  is  discharged  for  the  benefit  of  all  by  the 
penal  law. 

Legal  compulsion  in  this  sphere  secures  the  freedom  of  peace- 
ful citizens,  but  it  leaves  sufficient  room  for  the  exercise  of  evil 
propensities  and  compels  no  one  to  be  virtuous.  A malicious  man 
may,  if  he  likes,  give  vent  to  his  malice  in  evil-speaking,  intrigues, 
slander,  quarrels,  etc.  It  is  only  when  the  evil  will  attacks  the 
objective  public  rights  of  the  individuals,  and  threatens  the 
security  of  society  itself,  that  it  becomes  necessary  for  the  sake  of 
the  common  good,  which  coincides  with  the  freedom  of  peaceful 
citizens,  to  limit  the  freedom  of  evil.  In  the  interests  of  freedom, 
legal  justice  allows  men  to  be  wicked,  and  does  not  interfere  with 
their  free  choice  between  good  and  evil.  But  in  the  interests  of 
the  common  good  it  prevents  the  evil  man  from  becoming  an 


376  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

evil-doer , dangerous  to  the  very  existence  of  society.  The  purpose 
of  legal  justice  is  not  to  transform  the  world  which  lies  in  evil  into 
the  kingdom  of  God,  but  only  to  prevent  it  from  changing  too 
soon  into  hell. 

Such  premature  hell  has  threatened  and,  to  a certain  extent, 
still  threatens  humanity  on  two  sides.  The  normal  society,  that 
is,  a society  that  leads  a secure  and  worthy  existence  and  progresses 
towards  perfection,  is  conditioned  by  the  proper  balance  being 
maintained  between  the  individual  and  the  collective  interest. 
Hence,  anomalies  perilous  to  society  may  arise  either  from  the 
excess  of  individual  power,  breaking  up  the  social  solidarity,  or, 
on  the  contrary,  from  the  excess  of  social  control  crushing  the 
individual.  The  first  anomaly  menaces  humanity  with  the 
burning  hell  of  anarchy  ; the  second,  with  the  icy  hell  of  despot- 
ism, i.e.  of  the  same  anarchy  or  arbitrariness  concentrated  at  one 
point  and  pressing  upon  society  from  without. 

In  actual  history  the  balance  between  free  individual  powers 
and  the  collective  power  of  the  social  organisation  is,  of  course, 
movable  and  variable,  made  up  of  a number  of  particular  deviations 
and  rectifications.  But  the  very  fact  that  we  note  these  variations 
is  sufficient  to  prove  that  above  them  lie  the  abiding  norms  of 
social  and  individual  relations — the  eternal  boundaries  which 
spring  from  the  very  nature  of  morality,  and  cannot,  without 
fatal  consequences,  be  overstepped  by  society  either  in  the  one 
direction  or  in  the  other.  The  most  universal  and  in  this  sense 
the  most  important  of  these  boundaries  is  that  which  limits  the 
compelling  power  of  social  organisations  to  the  domain  of  the 
objective  or  practical  good,  leaving  all  the  rest,  i.e.  all  the  inner 
or  spiritual  world  of  man,  to  the  entire  responsibility  of  individuals 
and  of  free  associations.  To  defend  the  life  and  property  of 
every  one  against  the  attacks  of  external  and  internal  enemies, 
to  secure  to  all  the  necessary  education,  food,  medical  assistance, 
and  all  that  is  connected  therewith  (means  of  communication, 
post,  etc. ),— this  is  the  practical  good  which  can  and  ought  to  be 
realised  by  the  organised  power  of  the  society.  For  this  end 
society  must  inevitably  impose  certain  restrictions  or  liabilities. 
The  compulsory  character  of  these  restrictions  is  specific  only,  for 
it  is  clear  that  a person  who,  for  instance,  voluntarily  abstains 
from  crimes  does  not  experience  any  personal  inconvenience  from 


MORALITY  AND  LEGAL  JUSTICE  3 77 

the  legal  and  penal  institutions.  Speaking  generally,  all  restric- 
tions due  to  the  necessary  organisation  of  social  forces  are  as  little 
opposed  to  individual  freedom  as  the  fact  that  if  I intend  to  buy  a 
thing  I must  pay  for  it,  or  that  if  I do  not  want  to  get  wet  in  the 
rain  I must  take  an  umbrella. 

The  essential  characteristic  of  the  good  which  is  conditioned  by 
the  organisation  of  legal  justice  in  society  is  not  its  compulsory 
character — which  is  merely  a possible  consequence  of  it — but  the 
direct  objectivity  of  its  aim.  What  is  above  all  things  important  is 
that  certain  things  should  and  certain  things  should  not  exist  as  a 
fact.  It  is  important  that  there  should  be  protection  against 
savage  peoples,  so  that  they  should  not  burn  and  destroy  towns 
and  villages  ; it  is  important  that  evil  men  should  not  rob  and 
murder  the  wayfarers  ; it  is  important  that  the  population  should 
not  be  exterminated  by  diseases  ; it  is  important  that  every  one 
should  have  access  to  intellectual  education  and  enlightenment. 

These  necessary  goods  are  external  in  character,  and  the  way 
to  obtain  them  is  also  external,  admitting  of  compulsion  where  it 
is  inevitable.  To  the  immediate,  essential  work  of  the  law  courts, 
hospitals,  schools,  it  makes  no  difference  whatever  whether  they 
are  supported  by  voluntary  subscriptions  or  by  compulsory  taxation. 
The  same  thing,  however,  cannot  be  said  of  spiritual  goods, 
which  from  their  very  nature  cannot  be  compulsory.  There  are, 
in  the  last  resort,  two  such  goods  for  man : virtue,  i.e.  inner 
inclination  of  our  will  to  the  good  as  such , and  truth  or  right  belief, 
i.e.  inner  agreement  of  our  reason  with  truth  as  such.  It  is  clear  from 
these  definitions  alone  that  freedom  or  spontaneousness  forms  an 
essential  part  of  both  the  spiritual  or  inward  goods.  Therefore 
all  compulsory  external  action  in  this  sphere  is,  in  the  first  place, 
a fraud.  The  purpose  of  externally  compelling  or  forcing  a man 
to  have  an  inner,  i.e.  an  inwardly  determined,  disposition  for  the 
good,  or  an  inner  receptivity  for  the  true,  cannot  possibly  be 
achieved,  and  is  indeed  a logical  contradiction  or  absurdity  ; and 
to  use  compulsion  to  no  purpose  is  obviously  an  evil.  Hence,  all 
compulsory  measures  with  regard  to  spiritual  things  in  the  supposed 
interests  of  truth  and  virtue  are  nothing  other  than  the  use  of  evil 
means  for  a false  purpose — an  abuse  in  the  fullest  sense. 

There  are  three  kinds  of  violence  in  our  world:  (1)  brutal 
violence,  such  as  is  committed  by  murderers,  highwaymen, 


378  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

corrupters  of  children  ; (2)  human  violence,  necessarily  permitted 
by  the  compulsory  organisation  of  society  for  safeguarding  the 
external  goods  of  life  ; and  (3)  violent  intrusion  of  the  external 
social  organisation  into  the  spiritual  life  of  man,  with  the  false 
purpose  of  safeguarding  the  inner  goods — a species  of  violence 
which  is  wholly  false  and  evil,  and  may  therefore  justly  be  called 
diabolical. 

VIII 

From  the  nature  of  legal  justice,  which  serves  the  external 
or  the  objective  good,  it  follows  that  truth  and  virtue  must  always 
remain  a private  concern,  and  one  which  is  perfectly  free.  In 
addition  to  the  principle  of  unlimited  religious  tolerance,  certain 
other  consequences  follow  from  this. 

In  the  domain  of  the  penal  as  well  as  of  the  civil  law  the 
freedom  of  the  individual  is  limited,  not  by  the  private  or  sub- 
jective interest  of  other  individuals  taken  separately , but  by  the 
good  of  all.  Many  vain  and  self-conscious  people  would  rather 
be  plundered  or  even  crippled  than  suffer  secret  abuse,  slander, 
and  heartless  condemnation.  If,  therefore,  legal  justice  aimed  at 
the  protection  of  private  interest  as  such,  it  would  in  cases  of 
this  kind  have  to  limit  the  freedom  of  slanderers  and  evil-speakers 
even  more  than  the  freedom  of  robbers  and  men  of  violence. 
But  it  does  not  do  so,  for  verbal  insults  are  not  so  detrimental 
to  the  safety  of  society,  and  do  not  indicate  so  menacing  a 
degree  of  evil  will  as  the  crimes  against  person  and  property. 
Even  if  the  law  intended  to  cope  with  such  actions,  it  would  be 
impossible  for  it  to  take  into  account  all  the  forms  and  degrees  of 
individual  sensibility  to  insults.  And  if  it  could  do  so,  it  would  be 
unjust,  for  it  is  impossible  to  prove  that  the  guilty  person  intended 
to  cause  the  high  degree  of  suffering  which  he  did  cause  in 
reality.  Common  law  may  only  be  guided  by  definite  intentions 
and  objective  actions  which  can  be  verified  by  every  one.  Besides, 
in  the  cases  which  do  not  fall  within  the  scope  of  penal  law, 
the  injured  person  may,  if  he  likes,  avenge  himself  on  the 
injurer  by  the  same  means.  His  freedom  in  this  respect  is 
respected  as  much  as  that  of  his  adversary.  And  if  he  is  morally 
superior  to  the  latter,  and  thinks  that  he  ought  not  to  avenge 


MORALITY  AND  LEGAL  JUSTICE  379 

himself,  he  would  not  in  any  case  have  appealed  to  the  law, 
however  sensible  he  may  have  been  of  the  injury.  If  he  abstains 
from  personal  revenge,  so  much  the  better  for  him  and  for  society, 
which  is  at  liberty  freely  to  express  its  moral  judgment.  What 
matters  from  the  legal  point  of  view  is  not  the  evil  will  as  such , 
and  not  the  result  of  action,  which  may,  as  such , be  accidental, 
but  only  the  connection  of  the  intention  with  the  result,  or  the 
extent  to  which  the  evil  will  is  realised  in  action.  It  matters 
to  it  because  the  degree  of  realisation  and  the  corresponding 
degree  of  danger  to  society  may  be  determined  objectively  and 
is  an  external  evil,  the  protection  from  which  is  an  external  good, 
admitting  of  legal  compulsion. 


IX 

Since  the  essence  of  legal  justice  consists  in  maintaining  the 
balance  between  two  moral  interests — that  of  individual  liberty 
and  of  the  common  good,  it  is  clear  that  though  the  latter 
interest  may  limit  the  former  it  may  not  under  any  circumstances 
abolish  it.  For  in  that  case  the  balance  would  obviously  be 
disturbed  and  disappear  through  the  destruction  of  one  of  the 
terms  of  the  relation.  Therefore  measures  against  the  criminal 
should  never  go  so  far  as  to  deprive  him  of  life  or  to  take  away 
his  freedom  for  ever.  Laws  which  permit  capital  punishment, 
lifelong  penal  servitude,  or  lifelong  solitary  confinement  cannot 
be  justified  from  the  legal  point  of  view — they  contradict  the 
very  nature  of  legal  justice.  Besides,  the  contention  that  in 
certain  cases  the  common  good  requires  that  a given  person  should 
be  completely  done  away  with,  involves  a logical  self-contradiction. 
Common  good  is  common  just  because  in  a certain  sense  it  contains 
the  good  of  all  individual  persons  without  exception  ; if  it  did  not, 
it  would  be  the  good  of  the  majority.  It  does  not  follow  that 
it  therefore  is  a mere  sum  of  private  interests,  or  that  it  allows 
of  unlimited  individual  freedom.  This  would  be  another 
contradiction,  since  the  unlimited  freedom  of  one  individual  may, 
and  actually  does,  conflict  with  the  liberty  of  others.  But  the 
conception  of  the  common  good  implies  with  logical  necessity  that 
in  restricting  particular  interests  and  activities  within  common 
bounds  it  cannot  do  away  with  a single  bearer  of  such  interests 


380  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

and  activities  by  depriving  him  of  life  or  of  all  possibility  of  free 
action.  The  common  good  must,  in  one  way  or  another,  be  the 
good  of  this  individual  also.  But  if  it  deprives  him  of  existence 
and  of  the  possibility  of  free  action — that  is,  of  the  possibility  of 
any  good  at  all — it  ceases  to  be  a good  for  him  ; it  itself  then 
becomes  merely  a private  interest,  and  therefore  loses  its  right  to 
limit  personal  liberty.1 

With  reference  to  this  point,  too,  we  see  that  the  demands 
of  morality  entirely  coincide  with  the  essence  of  legal  justice. 
Speaking  generally,  although  legal  justice  in  exercising  compulsion 
to  secure  the  minimum  of  good  differs  from  morality  in  the 
strict  sense,  yet  in  its  exercise  of  compulsion  it  observes  the 
demands  of  morality,  and  must  on  no  account  conflict  with  it. 
If,  therefore,  some  positive  law  is  opposed  to  the  moral  con- 
sciousness of  the  good,  we  may  be  a priori  certain  that  it  does  not 
satisfy  the  essential  demands  of  justice  either.  So  far  as  such 
laws  are  concerned,  it  is  not  in  the  interests  of  justice  that  they 
should  be  retained,  but  that  they  should  be  lawfully  repealed. 

X 

External  compulsion  is  one  of  the  essential  characteristics  of 
the  norms  of  legal  justice  as  distinct  from  moral  norms  in  the 
strict  sense.  Hence,  justice  from  its  very  nature  requires 
guarantees , i.e.  sufficient  power  to  enforce  the  realisation  of  its 
norms. 

Every  person  in  virtue  of  his  absolute  moral  worth  has  an 
inalienable  right  to  exist  and  to  strive  for  perfection.  This 
moral  right  would,  however,  be  an  empty  word  were  its  actual 
realisation  to  depend  entirely  upon  external  happenings  and  the 
arbitrary  will  of  others.  To  be  real,  a right  must  contain  within 
itself  the  conditions  of  its  own  realisation,  i.e.  it  must  be  safe- 
guarded from  violation.  The  first  and  essential  condition  of  this 
is  communal  life,  since  a solitary  man  is  obviously  powerless 
against  the  forces  of  nature,  wild  beasts,  and  brutal  men.  But 

1 After  what  has  been  said  in  Chapter  VI.  on  the  penal  question,  I need  not 
explain  that  the  moral  principle  not  only  permits  but  in  certain  cases  actually  demands 
that  the  criminal  should  for  A time  be  deprived  of  liberty,  both  for  his  own  good  and 
for  the  sake  of  public  safety.  But  it  is  morally  impossible  to  inflict  the  penalty  of 
death,  or  to  pass  a sentence  depriving  a man  of  liberty  for  the  rest  of  his  life. 


MORALITY  AND  LEGAL  JUSTICE  381 

being  the  necessary  defence  of  individual  liberty,  or  of  the  natural 
rights  of  man,  communal  life  involves  at  the  same  time  a limita- 
tion of  these  rights — not  an  accidental  or  arbitrary  limitation, 
but  one  that  follows  from  the  nature  of  the  case  and  is  inwardly 
binding.  Making  use  of  the  social  organisation  to  safeguard  my 
existence  and  free  activity,  I must  recognise  in  my  turn  the 
right  of  that  organisation  to  exist  and  to  exercise  its  authority 
over  me — that  is,  I must  submit  my  activity  to  conditions  that 
are  necessary  to  the  existence  and  the  development  of  society. 
In  this  case  the  two  interests  coincide,  for  if  I desire  to  realise 
my  right,  or  to  secure  for  myself  a sphere  of  free  activity,  I must 
determine  the  degree  of  the  realisation  or  the  extent  of  the 
freedom  in  accordance  with  the  fundamental  demands  of  the 
social  good,  apart  from  which  there  can  be  no  realisation  of  my 
rights  at  all  nor  any  safeguards  of  my  freedom.  The  individual’s 
subordination  to  society  is  in  perfect  agreement  with  the  absolute 
moral  principle  which  does  not  sacrifice  the  particular  to  the 
universal,  but  unites  them  by  an  inner  bond  of  solidarity.  In 
surrendering  to  society  his  unlimited  but  insecure  and  unreal 
freedom,  the  individual  has  his  determined  or  rational  freedom 
secured  to  him — the  sacrifice  is  as  profitable  as  the  exchange 
of  a dead  lion  for  a living  dog. 

The  definite  limitation  of  personal  freedom  in  given  conditions 
of  time  and  place,  in  accordance  with  the  demands  of  the  common 
good,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  a certain  balance  or  a constant 
harmony  between  these  two  principles,  is  a positive  right  or  law 
in  the  strict  sense. 

Law,  as  such,  is  a universally  recognised  and  impersonal — i.e. 
independent  of  personal  opinions  and  desires — determination  of 
right,  or  an  expression  of  a proper  balance  (under  given  con- 
ditions and  in  certain  respects),  between  individual  liberty  and 
the  good  of  the  whole.  It  is  a definition  or  a general  notion 
which  finds  concrete  realisation  through  particular  judgments 
in  the  individual  cases  or  instances. 

Hence  the  three  necessary  characteristics  of  law  are  : (1)  its 
publicity  ; an  enactment  that  is  not  made  generally  known  cannot 
be  universally  binding,  i.e.  cannot  be  a positive  law  ; (2)  its  con- 
creteness ; it  is  the  norm  of  some  particular  definite  relations  in 
a given  real  environment  and  not  the  expression  of  any  abstract 


382  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

truth  or  ideal  ; 1 (3)  its  real  applicability  in  each  individual  case  ; 
this  is  ensured  by  the  law  being  always  accompanied  by  a 
‘sanction,’/.*,  by  its  holding  out  the  threat  of  compulsory  and 
punitive  measures  if  its  demands  are  unfulfilled  or  its  prohibi- 
tions violated.2 

In  order  that  the  sanction  might  not  remain  an  empty 
threat  the  law  must  be  supported  by  some  real  power  sufficient 
to  carry  its  demands  into  execution.  In  other  words,  justice 
must  have  its  actual  bearers  or  representatives  in  society  who 
would  be  sufficiently  powerful  to  give  a binding  force  to  the 
laws  they  publish  and  to  the  sentences  they  pass.  Such  actual 
representatives  of  justice  or  agents  of  the  law  are  called  authorities. 

I am  bound  to  demand  that  the  social  whole  should  safe- 
guard my  natural  rights  in  a way  in  which  I myself  am  unable 
to  safeguard  them,  and  in  doing  so  I am  bound  in  reason  and 
conscience  to  recognise  the  positive  right  of  this  social  whole 
to  use  means  and  methods  of  action  without  which  it  could  not 
fulfil  this  necessary  and  desirable  task.  Namely,  I must  leave 
to  the  social  whole,  (1)  the  power  to  issue  generally  binding  laws  ; 
(2)  the  power  to  judge,  in  accordance  with  these  laws,  private 
affairs  and  actions  ; and  (3)  the  power  to  compel  each  and  all  to 
fulfil  the  legal  verdicts  and  all  other  measures  necessary  for  general 
security  and  welfare. 

It  is  clear  that  these  three  different  powers — the  legislative, 
the  judicial  and  the  executive,  though  necessarily  distinct , cannot 
be  separate , and  ought  on  no  account  to  conflict  with  one 
another  : they  all  have  one  and  the  same  purpose — to  serve  the 
common  good  in  accordance  with  the  law.  Their  unity  finds 
its  real  expression  in  their  being  equally  subordinate  to  one 
supreme  authority,  invested  with  all  the  positive  rights  of  the 
social  whole  as  such.  This  central  power  finds  immediate  ex- 
pression as  legislative  authority.  Judicial  authority  is  conditioned 
by  the  first,  since  a court  of  justice  is  not  autonomous,  but  acts 
in  accordance  with  a law  that  is  binding  upon  it.  The  first 

1 Certain  law-codes  still  preserve — on  paper — enactments  which  require  that  people 
should  abstain  from  drunkenness,  be  pious,  honour  their  parents,  etc.  But  such 
spurious  laws  are  merely  a vestige  of  the  primitive  state  in  which  the  moral  and  the 
juridical  conceptions  were  confused  or  merged  into  one. 

2 The  pious  wishes  of  the  lawgiver  referred  to  in  the  last  note  are  not  accompanied 
by  any  sanction,  which  fact  sufficiently  proves  that  they  are  spurious  laws. 


MORALITY  AND  LEGAL  JUSTICE  383 

two  authorities  condition  the  third,  which  is  concerned  with 
enforcing  laws  and  verdicts.  In  virtue  of  this  inner  connection, 
without  the  one  supreme  authority  in  one  form  or  another 
there  could  be  neither  universally  binding  laws,  nor  regular 
functioning  of  justice,  nor  effective  administration,  and  the 
purpose  of  social  organisation  could  not  be  attained.  It  is  clear, 
of  course,  that  the  due  relationship  between  the  three  authorities 
is  violated  both  by  separating  and  placing  them  in  hostile 
opposition  to  one  another,  and  by  confusing  them  and  distorting 
their  natural  order.  This  happens,  for  instance,  when  the  second 
authority,  the  judicial  one,  is  subordinate  not  to  the  first  but  to 
the  third,  and  is  dependent  not  upon  the  law  but  upon  the  different 
organs  of  the  executive  power. 

The  social  body  with  a definite  organisation,  containing  in 
itself  the  fulness  of  positive  rights  or  the  one  supreme  authority, 
is  called  the  state.  In  every  organism  it  is  necessary  to  dis- 
tinguish the  organising  principle,  the  system  of  the  organs  or  of 
the  instruments  whereby  the  organisation  is  carried  out  and  the 
totality  of  elements  to  be  organised.  Corresponding  to  this,  we 
distinguish  in  the  collective  organism  of  the  state,  taken  in  the 
concrete,  (1)  the  supreme  authority  ; (2)  its  different  organs  or 
subordinate  authorities  5 (3)  the  substratum  of  the  state,  i.e.  the 
mass  of  the  population  of  a given  territory,  consisting  of  individuals, 
families  and  other  more  or  less  broad  private  unions  subordinate 
to  the  authority  of  the  state.  In  the  state  alone  does  justice  find 
all  the  conditions  necessary  for  its  concrete  realisation,  and  from 
this  point  of  view  the  state  is  the  embodiment  of  justice. 

Without  dwelling  here  upon  the  question  as  to  the  actual 
historical  origin  and  the  supreme  sanction  of  the  state  authority,1 
I have  simply  indicated  its  for?nal  basis  as  the  necessary  condition 
of  a just  organisation  of  society.  In  its  simplest  practical 
expression  the  meaning  of  the  state  consists  in  subordinating, 
within  its  limits,  violence  to  justice,  arbitrariness  to  legality,  and 
replacing  the  chaotic  and  destructive  conflict  of  the  particular 
elements  of  natural  humanity  by  a regular  order  of  existence. 
Compulsion  is  exercised  by  the  state  only  in  the  last  extremity, 
the  extent  of  it  is  determined  beforehand  in  accordance  with 
law,  and  it  is  justified  by  the  fact  that  it  proceeds  from  a common 

1 See  above,  Part  III.,  Chapters  I.  and  VI.,  and  below,  Chapters  IX.  and  X. 


384  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

and  impartial  authority.  This  authority,  however,  extends  only 
to  the  boundaries  of  the  given  state’s  territory.  There  is  no 
supreme  authority  above  individual  states,  and  therefore  conflicts 
between  them  are  in  the  last  resort  decided  by  means  of 
violence  only— by  war.  That  this  fact  contradicts  the  absolute 
principle  of  morality,  there  can  be  no  question.  The  relative 
significance  of  war  and  the  best  means  of  abolishing  it  are  the 
last  of  the  fundamental  practical  questions  which  the  collective 
life  of  historical  humanity  puts  before  the  moral  consciousness. 


CHAPTER  IX 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  WAR 

I 

No  one,  I fancy,  doubts  that,  speaking  generally,  health  is  a 
good  thing  and  disease  a bad  one,  that  the  first  is  normal  and 
the  second  anomalous.  The  only  way  to  define  health,  indeed, 
is  to  call  it  the  normal  state  of  the  organism,  and  disease  c the 
deviation  of  the  physiological  life  from  its  normal  condition.’ 
This  anomaly  of  the  physiological  life,  called  disease,  is  not 
however  a meaningless  accident  or  an  arbitrary  product  of 
external  evil  forces.  Not  to  speak  of  the  inevitable  diseases 
of  growth  or  development,  the  opinion  of  all  thoughtful  medical 
men  is  that  the  true  cause  of  all  disease  lies  in  the  inner 
deep -lying  changes  of  the  organism  itself,  and  the  external 
immediate  causes  of  illness  ( e.g . catching  cold,  exhaustion, 
infection,  etc.)  are  merely  the  occasions  for  the  inner  cause  to 
manifest  itself.  Similarly,  the  abnormal  phenomena  which 
ignorant  people  usually  identify  with  the  disease  itself  (e.g.  fever 
and  shivering  fits,  cough,  various  pains,  abnormal  secretion)  in 
truth  simply  express  the  successful  or  the  unsuccessful  struggle 
of  the  organism  against  the  destructive  effect  of  the  inner 
disturbances  in  which  the  disease  really  consists  ; their  ultimate 
nature  for  the  most  part  remains  unknown,  though  they  un- 
doubtedly exist  as  a fact.  Hence  follows  the  practical  conclusion 
that  medical  art  must  have  for  its  main  object  not  the  external 
symptoms  of  a disease  but  its  inner  causes.  At  any  rate  it  must 
detect  their  presence  and  then  assist  the  healing  work  of  the 
organism  itself,  by  hastening  and  encouraging  the  natural  processes 
and  not  doing  violence  to  them. 

385 


2 C 


386  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

The  position  of  the  chronic  disease  of  humanity — inter- 
national hostility,  expressing  itself  in  wars,  is  analogous.  Its 
symptomatic  treatment,  a treatment,  that  is,  directed  upon  its 
external  expressions  rather  than  its  inner  causes,  would  be  at 
best  a doubtful  procedure  ; a simple  and  absolute  rejection  of  it 
would  have  no  definite  meaning  whatever.  So  long  as  there  is 
moral  disturbance  within  humanity,  external  wars  may  be  useful 
and  necessary,  just  as  in  the  case  of  profound  physical  disturbance 
such  abnormal  phenomena  as  fever  or  sickness  may  be  useful  and 
necessary. 

In  strictness,  we  ought  to  ask  with  regard  to  war  three 
different  questions  instead  of  one  only.  In  addition  to  the  moral 
value  of  war  in  general,  there  is  another  question,  namely,  its 
significance  in  the  history  of  humanity — a history  which  is  not  yet 
completed , and  there  is  a third  personal  question  as  to  how  I 
(that  is,  how  any  human  being),  recognising  with  reason  and 
conscience  the  binding  character  of  moral  demands,  must  regard 
here  and  now  the  fact  of  war  and  the  practical  consequences  that 
follow  from  it.  The  confusion  or  the  wrong  division  of  these 
three  questions — the  generally  moral  or  theoretical,  the  historical, 
and,  finally,  the  personally-moral  or  the  practical — is  the  chief  cause 
of  all  misunderstandings  and  misconceptions  with  regard  to  war 
which  have  of  late  become  particularly  prevalent. 

Theoretical  condemnation  of  war  has  long  been  a common- 
place among  civilised  people.  Every  one  agrees  that  peace  is  a 
good  and  war  an  evil.  Our  tongue  automatically  speaks  of  the 
blessings  of  peace  and  the  horrors  of  war , and  no  one  would  venture 
to  say  the  opposite — ‘the  blessings  of  war’  or  ‘the  horrors  of 
peace.’  In  all  churches  prayers  are  offered  for  peaceful  times  and 
for  deliverance  from  the  sword  or  wars,  which  are  placed  along 
with  fire,  famine,  pestilence,  earthquake  and  flood.  With  the 
exception  of  savage  paganism  all  religions  condemn  war  in 
principle.  The  Jewish  prophets  had  preached  the  coming  of 
peace  among  men  and  peace  in  the  whole  realm  of  nature. 
The  Buddhist  principle  of  compassion  to  all  living  beings 
requires  the  same  thing.  The  Christian  commandment  of 
loving  one’s  enemies  excludes  war,  since  a loved  enemy  ceases  to 
be  an  enemy  and  cannot  be  made  war  upon.  Even  the  bellicose 
religion  of  Islam  regards  war  only  as  a temporary  necessity  and 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  WAR 


387 

condemns  it  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  ideal.  “ Fight  your 
enemies  until  Islam  is  established,”  and  then  <c  let  all  hostility 
cease  ” for  “God  abominates  the  aggressor  ” (Koran,  sura  ii.). 

II 

Thus  to  the  first  question  with  regard  to  war  there  exists 
only  one  indisputable  answer : war  is  an  evil.  Evil  may  be 
either  absolute  (such  as  deadly  sin,  eternal  damnation)  or  relative, 
that  is,  it  may  be  less  than  some  other  evil,  and,  as  compared  with 
it,  may  be  regarded  as  a good  (e.g.  a surgical  operation  to  save  a 
patient’s  life). 

The  significance  of  war  is  not  exhausted  by  the  negative 
definition  of  it  as  an  evil  and  a calamity.  There  is  also  a positive 
element  in  it— not  in  the  sense  that  it  can  itself  be  normal,  but 
in  the  sense  that  it  may  be  actually  necessary  in  the  given  condi- 
tions. This  way  of  regarding  abnormal  phenomena  in  general 
is  not  to  be  avoided  and  must  be  adopted  in  virtue  of  the  direct 
demands  of  the  moral  ideal  and  not  in  contradiction  to  it.  Thus, 
for  instance,  every  one  will  agree  that,  speaking  generally,  it  is 
godless,  inhuman,  and  unnatural  to  throw  children  out  of  the 
window  on  to  the  pavement.  Yet  in  case  of  a fire,  if  there  were 
no  other  means  of  extricating  the  unfortunate  babes  from  the 
burning  house,  this  terrible  action  would  become  permissible  and 
even  obligatory.  It  is  obvious  that  the  rule  to  throw  children  in 
extreme  cases  out  of  the  window  is  not  an  independent  principle 
on  a level  with  the  moral  principle  of  saving  those  in  danger ; 
this  latter  moral  demand  still  remains  the  only  motive  of  action. 
It  is  not  a case  of  deviation  from  the  moral  norm  but  of  actual 
realisation  of  that  norm  in  a way  which,  though  dangerous  and 
irregular,  proves  from  real  necessity  to  be  the  only  possible  one 
under  given  conditions. 

It  may  be  that  war  too  depends  upon  a necessity  which 
renders  this  essentially  abnormal  course  of  action  permissible  and 
even  obligatory  under  certain  conditions.  This  question  can  only 
be  settled  by  an  appeal  to  history.  Sometimes,  however,  it  is 
mistakenly  treated  from  the  wider  naturally-scientific  point  of 
view,  and  the  necessity  of  war  is  connected  with  the  alleged 
universal  principle  of  struggle  for  existence. 


388  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

In  truth,  however,  the  struggle  for  existence  neither  in  the 
human  nor  in  the  animal  kingdom  has  anything  to  do  with  war. 
When  it  is  said  that  a certain  species  was  victorious  in  the  struggle 
for  existence,  this  does  not  at  all  mean  that  it  had  overcome  any 
enemies  in  direct  encounters  or  real  battles.  'It  simply  means 
that  sufficient  adaptation  to  external  environment  enabled  the 
species  in  question  to  survive  and  to  multiply — which  all  do  not 
equally  succeed  in  doing.  In  the  struggle  for  existence  mammoths 
in  Siberia  disappeared  and  martens  were  victorious.  But  this  does 
not  mean,  of  course,  that  martens  were  braver  than  mammoths 
and  exterminated  the  latter  in  open  fight  with  the  help  of  their 
teeth  and  paws.  In  a similar  way  the  Jewish  nation,  which  is 
comparatively  small  and  was  disarmed  long  ago,  has  proved  to  be 
unconquerable  in  the  struggle  for  existence,  whilst  many  centuries 
of  military  successes  did  not  save  from  downfall  the  huge  Roman 
Empire,  as  well  as  other  warlike  states  that  had  preceded  it. 

Just  as  the  struggle  for  existence  is  independent  of  war  and 
carried  on  by  methods  which  have  nothing  in  common  with 
fighting,  so,  on  the  other  hand,  war  has  grounds  of  its  own 
distinct  from  the  struggle  for  the  means  of  livelihood.  If  the  latter 
were  the  only  ground  of  war,  the  primitive  epoch  of  history  would 
have  been  the  most  peaceful  of  all.  For  men  were  then  few  in 
number,  their  demands  were  of  the  simplest,  and  each  had  ample 
room  for  satisfying  them.  Fighting  and  mutual  extermination 
would  in  that  case  involve  great  risks  and  bring  no  advantages. 
In  this  respect  the  normal  issue  of  all  quarrels  suggested  itself 
naturally.  “ And  Abraham  said  unto  Lot,  Let  there  be  no  strife, 
I pray  thee,  between  me  and  thee,  and  between  my  herdmen  and 
thy  herdmen  ; for  we  be  brethren  [ki  anashim  achim  anachnu ).  Is 
not  the  whole  land  before  thee  ? Separate  thyself,  I pray  thee, 
from  me  : if  thou  wilt  take  the  left  hand,  then  I will  go  to  the 
right ; or  if  thou  depart  to  the  right  hand,  then  I will  go  to  the 
left.  And  Lot  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and  beheld  all  the  plain  of 
Jordan,  that  it  was  well  watered  everywhere,  before  the  Lord 
destroyed  Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  even  as  the  garden  of  the  Lord, 
like  the  land  of  Egypt,  as  thou  comest  unto  Zoar.  Then  Lot 
chose  him  all  the  plain  of  Jordan  ; and  Lot  journeyed  east : 
and  they  separated  themselves  the  one  from  the  other  ” 
(Gen.  xiii.  8-1  x). 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  WAR  389 

If  such  friendly  agreement  was,  however,  but  a rare  occur- 
rence in  those  days,  and,  speaking  generally,  the  mutual  relations  of 
primitive  humanity  were  more  like  ‘ bellum  omnium  contra  omnes,’ 
according  to  the  well-known  theory  of  Hobbes,  this  was  due,  not 
to  the  inevitable  struggle  for  existence,  but  to  the  free  play  of  evil 
passions.  The  fratricide  with  which  history  begins  was  caused  by 
envy  and  not  by  hunger.  And  the  most  ancient  poetical  work  that 
has  been  handed  down — the  savage  song  of  Lamech,  a grandson 
of  Cain,  recorded  in  the  Bible — bears  witness  not  to  material  need 
but  to  savage  malice,  vindictiveness  and  ferocious  pride.  “ And 
Lamech  said  unto  his  wives,  Adah  and  Zillah,  Hear  my  voice  ; 
ye  wives  of  Lamech,4  hearken  unto  my  speech  : for  I have  slain  a 
man  to  my  wounding,  and  a young  man  to  my  hurt.  If  Cain 
shall  be  avenged  sevenfold,  truly  Lamech  seventy  and  sevenfold  ” 
(Gen.  iv.  23,  24). 

Ill 

The  predominance  of  such  feelings  at  a time  when  the  human 
race,  multiplying  slowly  as  compared  with  the  majority  of  other 
animals,  was  small  in  number,  would  have  menaced  it  with  speedy 
extermination  were  not  the  war  of  all  against  all  counterbalanced 
from  the  first  by  the  tie  of  kinship.  This  tie  has  its  root  in  the 
maternal  instinct,  is  developed  by  means  of  family  feelings  and 
relations,  and  receives  its  final  sanction  in  the  religion  of  ancestor- 
worship.  The  kinship-group  organisation  (in  the  wide  sense1), 
which  resulted  from  all  these  circumstances,  may  be  regarded  as  the 
primitive  stage  in  the  historical  development  of  humanity,  which 
had  never  consisted  of  separate  isolated  entities  at  war  with  one 
another.  The  tie  of  kinship  had  existed  from  the  first,  and  the 
‘ war  of  all  against  all  ’ expresses  the  mutual  relation  not  between 
separate  individuals,  but  between  distinct  groups,  each  of  which  was 
held  together  by  kinship.  This  does  not  mean,  of  course,  that  each 
clan  was  as  a fact  at  continual  war  with  other  clans,  but  only  that 
no  clan  was  secure  against,  or  protected  from,  the  possibility  of 
war  with  any  other  clan.  This  state  of  things,  however,  could  not 
be  permanent.  It  was  only  in  rare  cases  that  war  between  clans 
ended  in  the  extermination  of  the  weaker.  Given  a certain 


1 See  above,  Chap.  X. 


390  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

equality  of  power,  the  issue  of  war  was  a treaty  or  contract 
sanctioned  by  religion.  On  the  other  hand,  the  weaker  groups, 
to  avoid  extermination  in  an  unequal  struggle,  either  severally 
joined  a stronger  clan  and  became  subordinate  to  it,  or  many  of 
them  together  formed  a federated  union.  Thus  war  itself  gave 
rise  to  rights  and  treaties  as  a security  of  peace.  Such  unions  of 
tribes  are  the  beginning  of  the  state. 

At  the  period  with  which  continuous  historical  records  begin 
for  us,  a considerable  part  of  humanity  was  already  organised  into 
states.  There  were  two  fundamental  types  of  state  : the  Western 
or  Hellenic  republic , i.e.  a small  city  commune,  and  the  Eastern 
despotic  monarchy , an  extensive  organisation  embracing  either  one 
(as  in  Egypt)  or  many  nations  (the  so-called  world  empires). 

Without  the  state  there  could  be  no  progress  in  human  culture, 
based  upon  a complex  co-operation  of  many  forces.  Such  co- 
operation was  impossible  to  any  large  extent  for  disconnected 
tribes,  at  constant  blood-feud  with  one  another.  In  the  state  we 
find  human  masses  for  the  first  time  in  history  acting  in  concord. 
War  has  already  been  banished  from  within  these  masses  and 
transferred  to  the  wider  circumference  of  the  state.  In  the  primi- 
tive social  group  all  grown-up  men  are  always  under  arms.  In 
the  state  warriors  either  form  a special  caste  or  profession,  or,  in 
the  case  of  conscription,  military  service  is  merely  a temporary 
occupation  of  the  citizens.  The  organisation  of  war  by  the  state 
is  the  first  great  step  towards  the  establishment  of  peace.  This  is 
particularly  clear  in  the  history  of  large  states  built  up  by  conquest — - 
the  so-called  world  empires.  Each  conquest  meant  in  this  case 
the  spreading  of  peace,  that  is,  a widening  of  the  circle  within 
which  war  ceased  to  be  a normal  event  and  became  a criminal  feud 
— a rare  and  reprehensible  accident.  ‘The  world  empires’ 
undoubtedly  strove,  though  only  half  consciously,  to  give  peace 
to  the  world  by  subjugating  all  nations  to  one  common  power. 
The  greatest  of  the  states  founded  upon  conquest,  the  Roman 
Empire,  directly  described  itself  as  peace — ‘ pax  Romana .’ 

But  the  older  monarchies  also  aimed  at  the  same  thing. 
Inscriptions  of  the  Assyrian  and  Persian  kings,  discovered  in  the 
nineteenth  century,  leave  no  doubt  that  these  conquerors  con- 
sidered it  their  true  vocation  to  subdue  all  nations  for  the  sake  of 
establishing  peace  on  earth,  though  their  conception  of  the  task 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  WAR  391 

and  of  the  means  of  fulfilling  it  was,  as  a rule,  much  too  simple. 
More  complex  and  more  fruitful  were  the  world-wide  historical 
plans  of  the  Macedonian  Empire,  which  rested  upon  the  superior 
power  of  Hellenic  culture  deeply  and  firmly  rooted  among  the 
conquered  races  of  the  East.  The  idea  of  universal  and  eternal 
peace  became  perfectly  definite  among  the  Romans,  who  firmly 
believed  that  they  were  destined  to  subjugate  the  universe  to  the 
power  of  one  single  law.  This  idea  was  particularly  dwelt  upon 
by  Vergil.  Apart  from  the  well-known  ctu  regere  imperio 
populos,’  etc., 

But  Rome  ! ’tis  thine  alone,  with  awful  sway 
To  rule  mankind  and  make  the  world  obey. 

Disposing  peace  and  war  thy  own  majestic  way 
To  tame  the  proud,  the  fetter’d  slave  to  free — 

he  returns  to  it  at  every  opportunity  in  his  Aeneid , as  the  inspiring 
motive  of  the  whole  poem.  Thus,  for  instance,  he  represents 
Jupiter  as  saying  to  Venus  about  her  descendants  : 

“The  people  Romans  call,  the  city  Rome. 

To  them  no  bounds  of  empire  I assign, 

Nor  term  of  years  to  their  immortal  line.  . . . 

Then  dire  debate,  and  impious  war,  shall  cease, 

And  the  stern  age  be  softened  into  peace. 

Then  banish’d  faith  shall  once  again  return, 

And  Vestal  fires  in  hallow’d  temples  burn  ; 

And  Remus  with  Quirinus  shall  sustain 

The  righteous  laws,  and  fraud  and  force  restrain.” 

Aeneid  i.  278-294. 

The  same  god  tells  Mercury  that  the  ancestor  of  the  Romans, 
Aeneas,  is  destined  to  conquer  Italy  throbbing  with  war,  and  to 
instal  in  power  the  noble  line  of  the  Teucre,  who  ‘shall  on  the 
conquered  world  impose  the  law’  ( Aeneid  iv.  229-231). 

In  comparing  the  four  ‘world  empires’  we  find  that  as  they 
succeeded  one  another  they  gradually  approached  the  ideal  of 
universal  peace  both  from  the  point  of  view  of  their  extension 
and  of  their  inner  principles.  The  first  empire,  the  Assyro- 
Babylonian,  did  not  extend  beyond  near  Asia,  was  supported  by 
constant  devastating  wars,  and  its  legislation  was  limited  to 
military  decrees.  The  second  empire,  that  of  Cyrus  and  the 
Achaemenides,  added  to  the  near  Asia  a considerable  part  of 
Central  Asia  on  the  one  hand  and  extended  to  Egypt  on  the 


392  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

other  ; its  inner  force  was  the  light  religion  of  Ormuzd,  which 
sanctioned  morality  and  justice.  In  the  third  empire,  that  of 
Alexander  and  his  successors,  historical  East  was  for  the  first 
time  united  to  historical  West,  and  the  two  were  welded  to- 
gether not  merely  by  the  force  of  the  sword  but  also  by  the 
ideal  elements  of  hellenic  culture.  Finally,  the  progress  made  by 
the  fourth — the  Roman  Empire,  consisted  both  in  the  fact  that 
Romans  extended  the  former  unity  as  far  as  the  Atlantic  Ocean, 
and  that  they  gave  it  a firm  political  organisation  and  a stable 
juridical  form.  War  was  inevitably  the  means  and  the  armed 
powers  the  necessary  support  of  this  work  of  establishing  peace. 
War  and  peace  were  correctly  symbolised  by  the  opposed  but 
inseparable  faces  of  the  Roman  god  Janus. 

War  unites  more  powerfully  than  anything  else  the  inner 
forces  of  each  of  the  warring  states  and  at  the  same  time  proves 
to  be  the  condition  for  subsequent  coming  together  and  mutual 
interpenetration  of  the  opponents  themselves.  This  is  most 
clearly  seen  in  the  history  of  Greece.  It  was  only  three  times 
in  the  course  of  their  history  that  the  majority  of  independent 
Greek  tribes  and  city-states  united  for  the  sake  of  a common 
cause  and  manifested  their  inner  national  unity  in  a practical 
way — and  every  time  it  was  due  to  a war : the  Trojan  war  at 
the  beginning,  the  Persian  wars  in  the  middle,  and  the  expedition 
of  Alexander  the  Great  as  the  culminating  achievement,  owing  to 
which  the  creations  of  the  national  genius  of  Greece  finally 
became  the  common  property  of  humanity. 

The  Trojan  war  established  the  Greek  element  in  Asia 
Minor,  where,  nurtured  by  other  civilising  influences,  it  blossomed 
out  for  the  first  time.  It  was  on  the  shores  of  Asia  Minor  that 
Greek  poetry  was  born  (the  Homeric  epos)  and  that  the  most 
ancient  school  of  their  philosophy  arose  and  developed  (Thales 
of  Miletus,  Heracleitus  of  Ephesus).  The  quickening  of  the 
united  national  forces  in  the  struggle  with  the  Persians  gave  rise 
to  another  and  a still  more  rich  manifestation  of  the  creative 
genius  of  the  Greeks.  And  the  conquests  of  Alexander,  throwing 
as  they  did  these  ripe  seeds  of  Hellenism  on  to  the  ancient  soil 
of  civilised  Asia  and  Egypt,  produced  that  great  Helleno-oriental 
synthesis  of  religious  and  philosophical  ideas  which,  together 
with  the  subsequent  unity  established  by  the  Roman  Empire,  was 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  WAR 


393 


the  necessary  historical  condition  for  the  spread  of  Christianity. 
Without  the  Greek  language  and  Greek  ideas,  as  well  as  without 
the  ‘ Roman  peace  ’ and  Roman  military  roads,  the  work  of 
preaching  the  Gospel  could  not  have  been  accomplished  so  quickly 
as  it  was  and  on  so  wide  a scale.  The  Greek  words  and  ideas 
became  common  property  solely  thanks  to  the  warlike  Alexander 
and  his  generals  ; the  Roman  ‘ peace  ’ was  attained  through  many 
centuries  of  wars,  and  was  guarded  by  legions ; and  it  was 
for  these  legions  that  the  roads  were  made  along  which  walked 
the  apostles.  ‘Throughout  the  earth  their  voice  was  heard  and 
to  the  ends  of  the  world  their  words  went  forth,’  sings  the 
Church.  This  ‘ earth,’  these  ‘ ends  of  the  world,’  were  no  other 
than  the  wide  circle  ( orbu ) which  Rome  drew  round  itself  with 
its  blood-stained  sword. 

Thus  all  the  wars  in  which  ancient  history  abounds  served 
to  increase  the  sphere  of  peace.  The  heathen  ‘kingdoms  of  the 
beast ’ prepared  the  way  for  the  messengers  proclaiming  the 
kingdom  of  the  Son  of  man. 

Apart  from  this,  however,  the  military  history  of  antiquity  shows 
important  progress  in  the  direction  of  peace  in  another  respect. 
Not  only  did  war  serve  the  purposes  of  peace  ; as  time  went  on, 
lesser  and  lesser  numbers  of  active  military  forces  were  required 
for  the  attainment  of  these  purposes,  while  the  peaceful  results 
became,  on  the  contrary,  more  and  more  important  and  far- 
reaching.  This  paradoxical  fact  is  beyond  dispute.  In  order 
to  take  Troy  it  was  necessary  for  almost  all  the  Greek  population 
to  be  under  arms  for  a period  of  ten  years,1  and  the  direct  result 
of  this  terrible  effort  was  next  to  nothing.  But  to  accomplish 
the  great  catastrophe — the  conquest  of  the  East  by  Alexander  the 
Great,  which  crowned  the  whole  of  the  Greek  history  and  had 
immediate  consequences  for  the  civilisation  of  the  world,  all  that 
was  needed  from  the  military  point  of  view  was  a three-year  long 
expedition  of  an  army  of  thirteeen  thousand  men.  If  we  compare 
the  results  and,  on  the  other  hand,  take  into  account  the  total 
population  of  Greece  and  Macedon  under  Alexander  and  the 

1 The  number  of  Greek  forces  given  in  the  Iliad  cannot,  of  course,  be  taken  as 
literally  exact,  but  as  an  approximate  estimate.  This  number  (110,000  men)  seems  to 
be  entirely  probable.  It  should  be  noted  with  reference  to  the  Iliad  generally  that 
recent  excavations  have  re-established  the  historical  value  of  the  poem,  allowing,  of 
course,  for  its  mythological  setting. 


394  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

small  number  of  the  Achaean  population  which  sent  to  Troy  so 
large  a contingent  of  military  force,  we  shall  be  struck  by  the 
relative  diminution  that  has  taken  place  in  the  course  of  these 
seven  centuries  in  the  number  of  lives  that  had  to  be  sacrificed 
for  the  attainment  of  historical  purposes.  Another  comparison 
leads  to  the  same  conclusion.  The  Persian  Empire,  whose 
millions  of  soldiers  could  not  secure  to  it  military  success  in  the 
struggle  with  tiny  Greece,  was  hardly  able  to  exist  for  two 
centuries.  The  Roman  Empire,  three  times  as  great  and  with  a 
population  of  at  least  200  millions,  kept  under  arms  some  400 
thousand  legionaries  to  defend  its  endless  frontiers,  and  existed 
three  times  as  long  as  the  kingdom  of  Darius  and  Xerxes.  And 
how  immeasurably  more  important  to  humanity  were  the  blessings 
of  culture  guarded  by  those  few  legions  than  the  objects  for  the  sake 
of  which  gathered  the  innumerable  hordes  of  the  king  of  kings  ! 
The  nature  of  military  progress  exemplified  in  the  advantages  of 
the  Macedonian  phalanx  and  the  Roman  legion  over  the  Persian 
hordes,  consisted,  generally  speaking,  in  the  preponderance  of 
quality  over  quantity  and  of  form  over  matter.  It  was  at  the 
same  time  a great  moral  and  social  progress,  since  it  led  to  an 
enormous  decrease  in  the  number  of  human  lives  swallowed  up 
by  war. 

IV 

When  the  Roman  world — and  peace — came  to  be  replaced 
by  the  Christian,  the  problem  of  war  remained  essentially  un- 
changed on  its  externally  historical  side.  True,  by  its  absolute 
condemnation  of  all  hatred  and  enmity,  Christianity  abolished  the 
principle,  the  moral  root  of  war.  But  cutting  down  the  roots 
does  not  mean  felling  the  tree  ; and  indeed  the  preachers  of  the 
Gospel  did  not  wish  to  fell  this  Nebuchadnezzar’s  tree,  for  they 
knew  that  the  earth  needed  its  shade  until  out  of  the  small  seed 
of  true  faith  there  would  grow  up,  to  replace  it,  ‘ the  greatest  of 
plants,’  under  the  boughs  of  which  there  would  be  secure  shelter 
both  for  men  and  beasts  of  the  field. 

The  teachers  of  Christianity  did  not  reject  the  state  and  its 
destination  to  ‘ bear  the  sword  against  the  wicked,’  and  therefore 
they  did  not  reject  war.  The  followers  of  the  new  faith  saw 
great  triumph  in  the  fact  that  two  victorious  wars  allowed 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  WAR 


395 


Caesar  Constantine  to  plant  the  cross  of  Christ  over  the  old 
unchanged  building  of  the  Roman  Empire.  Under  the  unchanged 
external  appearance  of  the  state,  however,  secret  spiritual  forces 
were  at  work.  The  state,  even  when  surmounted  by  the  cross, 
ceased  for  the  Christian  to  be  the  supreme  good  and  the  final 
form  of  life.  Faith  in  the  eternal  Rome,  that  is,  in  the  absolute 
significance  of  political  unity,  was  replaced  by  the  expectation  of 
‘the  new  Jerusalem,’  that  is,  of  the  inner  spiritual  union  of 
regenerated  men  and  nations.  Apart,  however,  from  human 
consciousness  being  thus  ideally  raised  to  a higher  level,  the 
process  of  external  realisation  of  unity  in  the  body  of  humanity 
continued  unceasingly,  though  at  first  slowly. 

The  Christian  world  [tot a christianitas , toute  la  chretiente ), 
which  in  the  Middle  Ages  took  the  place  of  the  ancient  Roman 
Empire,  was  considerably  wider  than  it.  True,  there  were 
frequent  wars  within  it — just  as  in  the  Roman  Empire  there  had 
been  insurrections  of  peoples  and  mutinies  of  military  leaders  ; 
but  the  representatives  of  the  Christian  principles  looked  upon 
these  wars  as  upon  lamentable  feuds,  and  in  every  way  tried  to 
put  a stop  to  them.  As  to  the  constant  struggle  between  the 
Christian  and  the  Mahommedan  world  (in  Spain  and  the  Levant), 
it  undoubtedly  was  in  the  interests  of  progress  and  culture.  The 
defence  of  Christianity'against  the  advance  of  Islam  preserved  for 
historical  humanity  the  possibility  of  higher  spiritual  development 
which  was  in  danger  of  being  submerged  by  the  comparatively 
lower  religious  principle.1  Besides,  the  interaction  between  the 
two  worlds,  though  based  on  hostility,  could  not  be  limited  to 
bloodshed  alone  and  gradually  led  to  a widening  of  the  intellectual 
horizon  on  both  sides.  It  thus  prepared  the  ground  in  the  case  of 
Christians  for  the  great  epoch  of  the  Renaissance  of  arts  and 
learning,  and  later  on  for  the  Reformation. 

In  modern  history  three  general  facts  have  the  most  important 
bearing  upon  the  question  we  are  considering — namely,  (i)  the 
development  of  nationality  ; (2)  the  corresponding  development  of 
international  relations  of  all  kinds  ; and  (3)  the  extension  of  the 
unity  of  culture  to  the  whole  of  the  globe. 

Having  freed  themselves  from  the  tutelage  of  the  Roman 
Church,  and  rejected  the  impotent  pretensions  of  the  holy  Roman 

1 See  above,  Part  III.,  Chap.  V. 


396  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

Empire,  European  nations  became  differentiated  into  independent 
political  wholes.  Each  national  state  recognised  itself  and  was 
recognised  by  others  as  a perfect  body , as  possessed,  i.e .,  of  supreme 
authority  or  absolute  fulness  of  power  and  therefore  as  un- 
subordinated to  any  other  power  on  earth.  The  direct  consequences 
of  this  national  segregation  were  not  favourable  to  the  cause  of 
peace.  In  the  first  place,  it  legitimised  war  even  among  Christian 
states,  since  war  proved  to  be  the  sole  means  of  settling  disputes 
between  separate  and  absolutely  independent  wholes  which  had  no 
supreme  arbiter  to  appeal  to,  after  the  manner  in  which  in  the 
Middle  Ages  they  always  could,  and  sometimes  did,  appeal  to  the 
Pope  and  to  the  Emperor.  Secondly,  the  national  idea,  when  taken 
to  be  the  supreme  principle  in  the  life  of  nations,  naturally  became 
national  pride ; patriotism  lost  its  true  character ; active  love  for  one’s 
own  people  became  idolatrous  worship  of  it  as  of  the  supreme  good, 
and  this  in  its  turn  passed  into  hatred  and  contempt  for  other  nations, 
and  led  to  unjust  aggressive  wars  and  oppression  of  other  peoples. 

Concealed  by  these  negative  features,  however,  lies  the  positive 
significance  of  nationality.  Nations  must  live  and  develop  in 
their  essential  peculiarities  as  the  living  organs  of  humanity;  apart 
from  them  its  unity  would  be  dead  and  devoid  of  content,  and 
this  peace  of  death  would  be  worse  than  war.  The  true  unity  of 
mankind  and  the  hoped-for  peace  must  be  based  not  upon  the 
weakness  and  subjugation  of  nations  but  upon  the  highest  develop- 
ment of  their  powers  and  a free  interaction  between  nationalities 
which  serve  as  a complement  to  one  another.  And  in  spite  of  all 
the  efforts  of  national  selfishness  which  strives  to  bring  about 
hostile  estrangement  between  nations,  positive  interaction  among 
them  exists,  and  is  constantly  increasing  in  depth  and  in  breadth. 
The  former  international  relations  have  not  disappeared  but  have 
gained  in  inner  force,  and  new  ones  have  been  added  to  them. 
Thus  in  the  West  the  Roman  Church,  in  spite  of  losing  its  external 
power,  has  considerately  gained  in  spiritual  authority  ; it  has  been 
purged  of  many  of  the  crude  abuses  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  has 
made  good  by  other  conquests  the  damage  it  deservedly  suffered 
at  the  hands  of  the  Reformation.  By  the  side  of  this  Church 
and  in  opposition  to  it  arose  the  equally  wide-embracing  and 
powerful  brotherhood  of  the  freemasons,  which,  however  enigmatic 
it  may  be  in  other  respects,  is  unquestionably  international  and 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  WAR 


397 


universal  in  character.  Relations  of  another  kind  came  to  be 
established  on  an  unprecedented  scale  in  the  economic  sphere. 
World-market  came  into  existence.  There  is  not  a single  country 
which  is  economicallyse]f-sufficient,producingeverything  necessary 
for  itself,  getting  nothing  from  others  and  giving  them  nothing 
in  return,  so  that  the  idea  of  the  state  as  c a perfect  body,’  i.e.  an 
absolutely  independent  social  organism,  proves  in  this  fundamental 
respect  to  be  the  purest  fiction.  Further,  constant  co-operation  of 
all  educated  countries  in  scientific  and  technical  work,  the  results  of 
which  immediately  become  common  property;  inventions  whereby 
distance  is  annulled  ; the  daily  press,  with  its  continual  news  from 
everywhere  ; finally,  the  remarkable  increase  in  the  international 
‘ exchange  of  substances  ’ by  the  new  means  of  communication — 
all  this  makes  civilised  humanity  one  whole  which  actually,  even 
though  involuntarily,  lives  one  common  life. 

And  civilised  humanity  tends  more  and  more  to  become  the 
whole  of  humanity.  When  at  the  beginning  of  modern  history 
Europeans  extended  their  activity  on  all  sides,  taking  America 
in  the  West,  India  in  the  South-east,  and  Siberia  in  the  North- 
east, the  greater  part  of  the  globe  proved  to  be  in  their  power. 
Now  this  power  may  be  said  to  have  extended  to  the  whole  of  the 
globe.  The  Mahommedan  world  is  surrounded  and  permeated 
through  and  through  with  European  culture,  and  it  is  only  in  the 
tropical  deserts  of  the  Soudan  that  it  can,  and  that  without  any 
hope  of  success,  maintain  its  primitive  independence  (the  kingdom 
of  the  Dervishes).  The  whole  of  the  African  coast  has  been 
divided  between  European  Powers,  and  now  the  centre  of  the 
black  continent  has  become  the  arena  of  their  rivalry.  Mongolian 
Asia — China  and  Japan — had  alone  remained  outside  the  boundary 
of  European  influence,  but  this  last  barrier  between  human  races 
is  being  removed  before  our  eyes.  With  astonishing  success  and 
rapidity  the  Japanese,  in  the  course  of  a quarter  of  a century, 
acquired  all  the  material  and  positively  scientific  side  of  European 
civilisation  and  then  at  once  proceeded  to  prove  to  their  Mongolian 
brethren,  in  the  most  convincing  way  possible,  the  necessity  or 
following  their  example.  The  Chinese,  who  had  already  been 
shaken  in  their  self-confidence  by  the  English,  but  were  still 
rather  slow  at  understanding  these  foreigners,  understood  a fellow- 
nation  at  once  ; and  henceforth  the  famous  wall  of  China  is  no 


398  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

longer  a symbol  of  a continuing  isolation  but  only  a relic  of  the 
irrevocable  past. 

We  must  now  consider  what  bearing  this  curious  process 
of  ‘ gathering  together  of  lands  ’ by  means  of  a single  material 
culture  had  upon  war.  On  the  one  hand,  war  played  an 
active  part  in  it.  The  wars  of  the  Revolution  and  the 

Napoleonic  wars  are  well  known  to  have  had  a powerful  influence 
upon  the  advance  and  the  dissemination  of  universally-European 
ideas  which  conditioned  the  scientific,  technical,  and  economic 
progress  of  the  nineteenth  century  and  thus  brought  about  the 
material  unification  of  humanity.  In  a similar  way  the  final 
act  of  that  unification — its  extension  to  the  last  stronghold  of 
isolated  barbarism,  China — began,  in  our  eyes,  with  war  and  not 
with  peaceful  persuasion.  On  the  other  hand,  the  universality 
of  material  culture,  realised  partly  through  means  of  war,  itself 
becomes  a powerful  means  and  ground  of  peace.  At  the  present 
time  the  enormous  majority  of  the  population  of  the  globe 
constitutes  one  connected  body,  between  the  parts  of  which 
there  is  physical,  if  not  moral,  solidarity.  This  solidarity 
shows  itself  in  the  sphere  from  which  none  can  escape — the 
economic  sphere.  Some  industrial  crisis  in  New  York  im- 
mediately makes  itself  felt  in  Moscow  and  Calcutta.  The  body 
of  humanity  has  evolved  a common  sense  - organ  [sensoriwn 
commune ),  owing  to  which  every  particular  stimulus  sensibly 
produces  a general  effect. 

Every  prolonged  and  serious  war  is  inevitably  accompanied 
by  profound  economic  disturbances  which  are  bound  to  be  world- 
wide, now  that  the  different  parts  of  the  earth  have  become  so 
closely  connected.  This  state  of  things  was  being  evolved 
throughout  the  nineteenth  century,  though  it  became  clear  to 
all  only  at  the  end  of  it.  It  is  a sufficient  foundation  for  the  fear 
of  war , completely  unknown  in  earlier  times,  which  has  now 
taken  possession  of  all  civilised  nations.  During  the  first  half 
of  the  century  wars  became  shorter  and  more  rare.  Between 
Waterloo  and  Sebastopol,  Europe  had  forty  years  of  peace — a 
thing  which  had  not  happened  during  the  whole  of  its  previous 
history.  Later  on,  special  historical  causes  brought  about  several 
comparatively  short  European  wars  in  1859,  1864,  1866,  and 
1870;  the  Russo-Turkish  war  of  1877-78  could  not  be  made 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  WAR 


399 


into  a general  European  war.  The  most  important  of  these 
wars — the  Franco-Prussian — is  very  characteristic.  It  left  in  the 
most  civilised  nation  of  Europe  a feeling  of  national  injury  and 
a thirst  for  vengeance — and  yet  for  the  last  twenty-eight  years 
these  feelings  have  not  been  able  to  pass  into  action  solely  from 
fear  of  war.  In  the  seventeenth  or  eighteenth  century,  not 
to  speak  of  epochs  more  remote,  such  prudence  would  have  been 
quite  inconceivable.  And  what  do  the  monstrous  armaments  of 
European  countries  indicate  if  not  the  terrible,  overwhelming 
fear  of  war,  and  consequently  the  approaching  end  of  wars  ? 1 

It  would  be  irrational,  however,  to  think  and  to  act  as 
though  that  approaching  end  had  already  come.  Although  the 
common  economic  sensorium  does  at  present  unite  all  the  parts 
of  the  earth  with  a tie  of  which  the  people  themselves  are 
conscious,  yet  this  tie  is  not  everywhere  of  the  same  strength  and 
the  parts  are  not  all  equally  sensitive.  There  are  still  some 
nations  left  which  in  the  case  of  a world  war  risk  little — and 
there  are  some  which  are  prepared  to  risk  a great  deal.  The 
introduction  of  the  Mongolian  race  into  the  sphere  of  the 
material  European  culture  has  a twofold  significance.  This 
race,  the  chief  representatives  of  which,  the  Chinese  people, 
number  at  least  two  hundred  million  souls,  are  noted  for  great 
racial  pride  and  extreme  contempt  for  life,  both  their  own  and 
other  people’s.  It  is  more  than  probable  that  the  now  inevitable 
acquisition  of  the  technique  of  European  culture  by  the  yellow 
race  will  only  serve  it  as  a means  for  proving  in  a decisive 
struggle  the  superiority  of  its  spiritual  powers  over  the  spiritual 
powers  of  Europe.  This  forthcoming  armed  struggle  between 
Europe  and  Mongolian  Asia  will  certainly  be  the  last  war, 
but  it  will  on  that  account  be  all  the  more  terrible.  It  will 
indeed  be  a world  war,  and  it  is  not  a matter  of  indifference  to 
the  destinies  of  humanity  which  side  will  prove  victorious. 

V 

There  is  a wonderful  system  and  unity  in  the  general 
history  of  human  wars,  the  chief  moments  of  which  I have 

1 The  three  last  half-European  wars  do  not  contradict  this  statement.  The  Servo- 
Bulgarian  war  of  1885,  the  Greco-Turkish  of  1897,  and  the  Spanish-American  of  1898 
all  came  to  an  end  before  they  had  really  begun. 


400  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

indicated.  From  the  rosy  mist  of  historical  childhood  there 
stands  out  in  the  first  place  the  clear  though  half-fantastical 
image  of  the  Trojan  war — that  first  great  encounter  of  East 
and  West,  of  Europe  and  Asia.  This  is  how  Herodotus  regarded 
the  Trojan  war,  with  which  his  history  begins ; and  it  is  not 
for  nothing  that  the  first  inspired  work  of  purely  human  poetry 
(the  Iliad ) is  connected  with  it  too.  This  war  was  indeed  the 
beginning  of  the  earthly,  worldly  history  of  humanity  which 
throughout  its  course  turns  round  the  fateful  struggle  between 
East  and  West,  while  its  arena  is  becoming  wider  and  wider.  Now 
that  arena  has  reached  its  utmost  limit — the  whole  surface  of 
the  globe.  In  the  place  of  the  deserted  Skamander  there  is  the 
Pacific  Ocean,  in  the  place  of  the  smoking  Troy — the  ominous 
mass  of  China,  and  the  struggle  is  still  as  before  between  the 
opposing  principles  of  East  and  West.  There  was  a moment 
of  crisis,  a pause  in  the  struggle,  when,  following  upon  the 
external  union  of  the  historical  East  with  the  West  in  the  Roman 
Empire — under  the  power  of  the  descendants  of  Aeneas  of  Troy, 
— the  light  of  Christianity  abolished  the  ancient  hostility  from 
within  : 

And  streaming  afar  the  light  that  came 

Out  of  the  East  arose, 

And  glimmering  with  portent  and  celestial  power 

It  reconciled  East  and  West. 

But  the  old  material  and  cultural  union  proved  to  be  unstable, 
and  the  spiritual  is  still  awaiting  its  final  realisation.  True, 
in  the  place  of  the  political  unity  of  the  Roman  Empire,  modern 
humanity  has  evolved  another  unity — the  economic  one,  which, 
like  the  first,  puts  great  external  obstacles  in  the  way  of  armed 
struggle.  But  these  obstacles  which  have  of  late  saved  us  from 
a European  war  are  unable  to  prevent  the  last  and  the  greatest 
struggle  between  the  two  worlds — of  Europe  and  of  Asia. 
These  now  are  no  longer  represented  by  separate  peoples,  such 
as  the  Acheans  and  the  Trojans,  or  even  the  Greeks  and  the 
Persians,  but  appear  in  their  true  proportions  as  the  two  great 
and  hostile  halves  into  which  the  whole  of  humanity  is  divided. 
The  victory  of  one  side  or  another  will  indeed  give  peace  to  the 
whole  world.  There  will  be  no  more  struggle  between  nations  ; 
but  the  question  still  remains  whether  this  political  peace,  this 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  WAR 


401 


establishment  of  international  unity  in  the  shape  of  a world 
empire — be  it  a monarchy  or  some  other  form  of  state, — will  indeed 
mean  a real  and  lasting  peace,  whether  it  will  stop  the  struggle 
— sometimes  an  armed  struggle — between  other,  non-political 
elements  of  humanity.  Or,  maybe,  it  will  simply  be  a repeti- 
tion on  a vast  scale  of  what  has  happened,  within  our  memory, 
in  more  narrow  limits.  Germany  had  once  consisted  of  many 
states  at  war  with  one  another.  The  national  body  suffered  from 
lack  of  real  unity,  and  the  creation  of  such  a unity  was  the 
cherished  dream  of  the  patriots.  It  came  to  be  realised  after 
several  wars — and  it  proved  to  be  insufficient.  The  Germans,  of 
course,  will  never  relinquish  their  political  unity,  but  they  clearly 
see  that  it  was  only  one  necessary  step  forward  and  not  the 
attainment  of  the  supreme  goal.  The  political  struggle  between 
small  states  came  to  be  replaced  throughout  the  empire  by  a 
more  deep-rooted  struggle  — religious  and  economical.  The 
Ultramontanes  and  the  social  democrats  are  proving  to  be  more 
formidable  foes  than  the  Austrian  and  the  French.  When  the 
whole  of  humanity  is  politically  united,  whether  in  the  form  of 
a world  empire  or  a world-wide  federation  of  states,  the  question 
still  remains  whether  such  union  will  put  an  end  to  the  struggle 
of  freemasonry  with  clericalism,  or  appease  the  hostility  of 
socialism  against  the  propertied  classes  and  of  anarchism  against 
all  social  and  political  organisation.  It  is  clear  that  the  struggle 
between  religious  beliefs  and  material  interests  survives  the 
struggle  between  states  and  nations,  and  that  the  final  establish- 
ment of  external  political  unity  will  clearly  show  its  inner 
insufficiency.  It  will  make  plain  the  moral  truth  that  external 
peace  is  not  necessarily  a true  good  in  itself  and  that  it  becomes 
a good  only  in  connection  with  an  inner  regeneration  of 
humanity.  And  it  is  only  when  the  insufficiency  of  external 
union  will  have  been  known  by  experience  and  not  merely  in 
theory  that  the  time  will  be  ripe  for  spiritualising  the  united 
body  of  the  universe,  and  for  realising  in  it  the  Kingdom  of 
Truth  and  of  Eternal  Peace. 


2 D 


402  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


VI 

War,  as  we  have  seen,  has  been  the  chief  historical  means  of 
bringing  about  the  external  political  unification  of  humanity* 
Wars  between  clans  and  tribes  led  to  the  formation  of  the  state 
which  abolished  war  within  its  own  limits.  External  wars 
between  separate  states  gave  rise  to  vaster  and  more  complex 
political  bodies  possessing  a unity  of  culture,  and  seeking  to 
establish  peace  and  equilibrium  within  their  limits.  At  one  time 
the  whole  mass  of  humanity,  broken  up  and  divided,  was  per- 
meated through  and  through  with  war  which  never  ceased 
between  innumerable  small  groups.  War  was  everywhere  ; but 
gradually  driven  further  and  further  back  it  now  appears  to  be  an 
almost  inevitable  danger  at  one  point  only — at  the  dividing  line 
between  the  two  chief  races  into  which  historical  humanity  is 
divided.  The  process  of  unification  is  drawing  towards  its  end, 
but  that  end  has  not  yet  come.  It  is  extremely  improbable  that 
the  yellow  race  will  peacefully  enter  within  the  circle  of  European 
culture,  and,  from  the  historical  point  of  view,  there  is  no  reason 
to  believe  that  war  is  to  be  immediately  and  completely  abolished. 
Is,  however,  this  point  of  view  binding  upon  the  moral  conscious- 
ness ? 

The  matter  appears  as  follows : “ Whatever  the  historical 
significance  of  war  may  be,  it  is  in  the  first  place  murder  of 
men  by  men.  But  our  conscience  condemns  murder,  and  there- 
fore we  ought  conscientiously  to  refuse  to  take  any  part  in  war, 
and  ought  to  persuade  others  to  do  the  same.  To  spread  such  a 
view  by  word  and  example  is  the  true  and  the  only  certain  means 
of  abolishing  war,  since  it  is  clear  that  when  every  one  refuses 
to  do  military  service,  war  will  become  impossible.”  In  order 
that  this  argument  might  be  convincing,  it  would  have  in  the 
first  place  to  be  proved  that  war  and  even  military  service  is  the 
same  as  murder.  But  this  is  not  the  case.  Military  service 
means  only  a possibility  of  war.  During  the  forty  years  between 
the  wars  of  Napoleon  I.  and  Napoleon  III.  several  million  men 
in  Europe  underwent  military  training,  but  only  an  insignificant 
part  of  them  had  actual  experience  of  war.  Even  when  war  does 
break  out,  however,  it  cannot  be  reduced  to  murder,  that  is,  to  a 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  WAR 


403 


crime  which  presupposes  evil  intention  directed  upon  a certain 
object,  upon  this  particular  man  whose  life  I take.  In  war  the 
individual  soldier  has,  generally  speaking,  no  such  intention, 
especially  with  the  present  method  of  fighting  by  means  of  guns 
and  cannons  against  an  enemy  who  is  too  far  off  to  be  seen.  Only 
in  cases  of  actual  hand-to-hand  fighting  does  the  question  of  con- 
science arise  for  the  individual,  and  then  it  must  be  decided  by 
each  according  to  his  conscience.  Speaking  generally,  war  as  a 
conflict  between  collective  organisms  (states)  and  their  collective 
organs  (armies)  is  not  the  work  of  individuals  who  play  a passive 
part  in  it,  and  for  them  possible  murder  is  accidental  only. 

It  might  be  said,  however,  that  it  is  better  to  avoid  the  very 
possibility  of  accidental  murder  by  refusing  to  do  military  service. 
This  is  undoubtedly  true  if  it  is  a question  of  free  choice.  A 
man  who  has  attained  a certain  level  of  moral  consciousness,  or 
one  whose  feeling  of  pity  is  strongly  developed,  will  certainly 
not  choose  the  army  as  a profession,  but  will  prefer  to  follow  a 
peaceful  calling.  But  so  far  as  compulsory  military  service  re- 
quired by  the  state  is  concerned,  it  must  be  admitted  that  so  long 
as  it  exists  a refusal  on  the  part  of  the  individual  to  submit  to  it 
is  a greater  evil  than  the  institution  itself,  however  much  we  may 
disapprove  of  the  modern  system  of  universal  military  service,  the 
disadvantages  of  which  are  obvious  and  the  efficiency  doubtful. 
The  person  who  refuses  to  serve  his  time  in  the  army  knows  that 
the  requisite  number  of  recruits  will  in  any  case  be  gathered  and 
that  somebody  else  will  be  called  in  his  stead.  Therefore  he  con- 
sciously forces  his  neighbour,  who  would  otherwise  be  free,  to  all 
the  hardships  of  military  service.  Besides,  the  whole  meaning 
of  such  a refusal  satisfies  the  demands  neither  of  logic  nor  of 
morality,  since  this  is  what  it  comes  to.  For  the  sake  of 
avoiding  a remote  future  possibility  of  accidentally  killing  an 
enemy  in  a war  which  will  not  depend  upon  me,  I myself  declare 
war  to  the  state  now  and  compel  its  representatives  to  take  a 
number  of  violent  measures  against  me  at  once , in  order  that  I 
might  save  myself  from  committing  problematic  and  accidental 
violence  in  the  unknown  future. 

The  purpose  of  military  service  is  defined  in  our  law  by 
the  formula  ‘ to  defend  the  throne  and  the  fatherland,’  that  is, 
the  political  whole  to  which  a given  individual  belongs.  The 


404  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


state  may,  as  it  often  has  done  in  the  past,  abuse  its  armed  forces, 
and,  instead  of  self-defence,  undertake  unjust  and  aggressive  wars  ; 
but  this  is  not  a sufficient  ground  for  determining  my  own 
present  actions.  Such  actions  must  be  solely  determined  by  my 
own  moral  duties  and  not  by  those  of  others.  The  question  then 
in  the  last  resort  comes  to  this  : Is  it  my  moral  duty  to  take  part  in 
the  defence  of  my  country  ? 

Theories  which  take  up  an  absolutely  negative  attitude 
towards  war  and  maintain  that  it  is  the  duty  of  every  one  to  refuse 
the  demand  of  the  state  for  military  service,  altogether  deny  that 
the  individual  has  any  duties  towards  the  state.  From  their  point 
of  view  the  state  is  simply  a band  of  brigands  who  hypnotise  the 
crowd  in  order  to  keep  it  in  subjection  and  to  use  it  for  their  own 
purposes.  But  seriously  to  believe  that  this  account  exhausts  or 
in  the  least  expresses  the  true  nature  of  the  case  would  be  altogether 
too  naive.  This  view  is  particularly  ill-founded  when  it  appeals 
to  Christianity. 

Christianity  has  revealed  to  us  our  absolute  dignity,  the  un- 
conditional worth  of  the  inner  being  or  of  the  soul  of  man.  This 
unconditional  worth  imposes  upon  us  an  unconditional  duty — to 
realise  the  good  in  the  whole  of  our  life,  both  personal  and 
collective.  We  know  for  certain  that  this  task  is  impossible  for 
the  individual  taken  separately  or  in  isolation,  and  that  it  can  only 
be  realised  if  the  individual  life  finds  its  completion  in  the  universal 
historical  life  of  humanity.  One  of  the  means  of  such  comple- 
tion, one  of  the  forms  of  the  universal  life — at  the  present  moment 
of  history  the  chief  and  the  dominant  form  — is  the  fatherland 
definitely  organised  as  the  state.  This  form  is  not,  of  course,  the 
supreme  and  final  expression  of  human  solidarity,  and  the  father- 
land  must  not  be  put  in  the  place  of  God  and  of  His  universal 
kingdom.  But  from  the  fact  that  the  state  is  not  everything,  it 
by  no  means  follows  that  it  is  unnecessary  and  that  it  would  be 
right  to  aim  at  abolishing  it. 

Suppose  that  the  country  in  which  I live  is  visited  by  a 
calamity  such  as  famine.  What  is  in  this  case  the  duty  of  the 
individual  as  an  unconditionally  moral  being  ? Both  reason  and 
conscience  clearly  say  that  he  must  do  one  of  two  things — either 
feed  all  the  hungry  or  himself  die  of  starvation.  It  is  impossible 
for  me  to  feed  millions  who  are  starving,  and  yet  my  conscience 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  WAR 


405 


does  not  in  the  least  reproach  me  for  remaining  alive.  Now  this 
is  naturally  due  to  the  fact  that  the  state  takes  upon  itself  my 
moral  duty  to  provide  bread  for  all  the  starving,  and  that  it  can 
fulfil  it  owing  to  its  collective  resources  and  to  its  organisation 
intended  for  prompt  action  on  a wide  scale.  In  this  case  the 
state  proves  to  be  an  institution  which  can  successfully  perform 
work  that  is  morally  binding  but  physically  impossible  for  the 
individual.  If,  however,  the  state  fulfils  for  me  my  direct  moral 
duties,  it  cannot  be  said  that  I owe  nothing  to  it  and  that  it  has 
no  claim  upon  me.  If  it  had  not  been  for  it  I would  have  been 
in  conscience  bound  to  give  my  very  life  ; can  I then  refuse  to 
contribute  my  small  share  towards  the  means  which  it  needs  for 
carrying  out  my  own  work  ? 

But,  it  will  be  said,  the  rates  and  taxes  collected  by  the  state 
may  be  expended  upon  things  which  appear  to  me  to  be  useless, 
and  even  pernicious,  instead  of  upon  obviously  useful  work.  In 
that  case  it  will  be  my  duty  to  expose  such  abuses,  but  certainly 
not  to  deny,  by  word  and  deed,  the  very  principle  of  taxation  by 
the  state,  the  recognised  destination  of  which  is  to  serve  the 
general  welfare. 

Now  the  military  organisation  of  the  state  is  really  based  upon 
the  same  principle.  If  savages  such  as  the  Caucasian  mountaineers 
of  the  old  days,  or  the  Kurds  and  the  Black  Flags  of  the  present 
times,  attack  a traveller  with  the  obvious  intention  of  murdering 
him  and  his  family,  it  is  no  doubt  his  duty  to  fight  them — not  out 
of  hostility  or  malice  against  them,  not  to  save  his  life  at  the  ex- 
pense of  his  neighbour’s  life,  but  to  save  the  defenceless  beings 
entrusted  to  his  protection.  To  help  others  in  such  circumstances 
is  an  absolute  moral  duty,  and  it  cannot  be  limited  to  one’s  own 
family.  But  successfully  to  defend  all  the  weak  and  innocent 
against  the  attacks  of  evil-doers  is  impossible  for  isolated  individuals 
or  even  for  groups  of  many  men.  Collective  organisation  of  such 
defence  is  precisely  the  destination  of  the  military  force  of  the 
state,  and  to  support  the  state  in  one  way  or  another  in  this  work 
of  pity  is  the  moral  duty  of  every  one,  which  no  abuses  can  render 
void.  Just  as  the  fact  that  ergot  is  poisonous  does  not  prove  that 
rye  is  injurious,  so  the  burdens  and  the  dangers  of  militarism 
are  no  evidence  against  the  necessity  of  armed  forces. 

The  military  or  indeed  any  compulsory  organisation  is  not 


406  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

an  evil,  but  a consequence  and  a symptom  of  evil.  There  was 
no  trace  of  such  an  organisation  at  the  time  when  the  innocent 
shepherd  Abel  was  killed  by  his  brother  out  of  malice.  Justly 
fearing  lest  the  same  thing  should  happen  to  Seth  and  other 
peaceful  men,  the  guardian  angels  of  humanity  mixed  the  clay 
with  copper  and  iron  and  created  the  soldier  and  the  policeman. 
And  until  Cain’s  feelings  disappear  from  the  hearts  of  men,  soldier 
and  policeman  will  be  a good  and  not  an  evil.  Hostility  against 
the  state  and  its  representatives  is,  after  all,  hostility — and  this  fact 
would  alone  be  sufficient  to  justify  the  necessity  of  the  state.  And 
it  is  strange,  indeed,  to  be  hostile  to  it  for  the  sole  reason  that  the 
state  merely  limits  by  external  means  and  does  not  inwardly  abolish 
in  the  whole  world  the  malice  which  we  are  unable  to  abolish  in 
ourselves  ! 


VII 

Between  the  historical  necessity  of  war  on  the  one  hand,  and 
the  abstract  denial  of  it  on  the  other,  lies  the  duty  of  the  indi- 
vidual to  the  organised  whole — the  state — which,  down  to  the 
end  of  history,  conditions  both  the  existence  and  the  progress 
of  humanity.  The  unquestionable  fact,  however,  that  the  state 
possesses  the  means  both  for  preserving  human  society  in  its 
present  condition,  and  also  for  moving  it  forward,  imposes  upon 
the  individual  other  duties  with  regard  to  the  state  than  a mere 
fulfilment  of  its  lawful  demands.  Such  fulfilment  would  be  suffi- 
cient were  the  state  a perfect  embodiment  of  the  normal  social 
order.  But  since  in  truth  it  is  only  the  condition  and  the  means 
of  human  progress,  and  is  itself  gradually  becoming  more  perfect 
in  different  respects,  it  is  the  duty  of  the  individual  to  take,  so 
much  as  in  him  lies,  active  part  in  this  general  political  progress. 
The  individual  is  the  bearer  of  the  absolute  moral  consciousness, 
of  the  perfect  ideal  of  truth  and  peace,  or  of  the  kingdom  of  God. 
This  consciousness  he  received,  not  from  the  state,  but  from  above 
and  from  within.  The  ideal,  however,  cannot  be  actually  realised 
in  the  collective  life  of  humanity  except  by  means  of  a preparatory 
state  organisation.  Hence  for  every  individual  who  really  adopts 
the  moral  point  of  view  there  follows  the  direct  positive  duty  of 
helping  the  state  by  persuasion  or  preaching  to  fulfil  in  the  best 
possible  way  its  preliminary  function.  After  this  function  has 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  WAR 


407 


been  discharged — but  not  until  then— the  state  itself  will  of  course 
become  superfluous.  The  individual  both  can  and  must  thus  in- 
fluence society  both  with  reference  to  war  and  to  all  other  aspects 
of  the  political  life. 

The  evil  of  war  is  in  the  extreme  hostility  and  hatred  between 
the  disjecta  membra  of  humanity.  In  personal  relations  bad  feelings 
are  not  justified  by  any  one,  and  it  is  useless  to  denounce  them. 
In  the  case  of  international  hatred,  however,  the  bad  feeling  is 
usually  associated  with  false  opinions  and  erroneous  reasoning, 
and  is  indeed  often  created  by  them.  To  struggle  against  this 
deception  is  the  first  duty  of  every  man  who  truly  desires  to  bring 
humanity  nearer  to  a good  peace. 

As  to  the  future  decisive  struggle  between  Europe  and  Asia, 
probable  as  it  is,  it  does  not  threaten  us  as  an  unavoidable  impend- 
ing doom.  The  future  is  still  in  our  hands.  The  first  condition 
which  could  render  the  peaceful  inclusion  of  the  Mongolian  race 
within  the  circle  of  Christian  culture  possible — though  not  very 
probable — is  that  the  Christian  nations  should  themselves  become 
more  Christian,  and  that  in  all  relations  of  the  collective  life  they 
should  be  more  guided  by  moral  principles  than  by  shameful  selfish- 
ness and  evil  economic  and  religious  hostility. 

Not  long  ago  at  the  world  congress  of  religion  in  Chicago 
some  Asiatic  men  — Buddhists  and  Brahmanists — addressed  the 
Europeans  with  the  following  words,  expressive  of  the  popular 
opinion  of  the  East:  “You  send  to  us  missionaries  to  preach 
your  religion.  We  do  not  deny  its  merits,  but  having  got  to 
know  you  during  the  last  two  centuries  we  see  that  your  whole 
life  is  opposed  to  the  demands  of  your  faith.  You  are  moved,  not 
by  the  spirit  of  love  and  truth  which  your  God  revealed  to  you, 
but  by  the  spirit  of  greed  and  violence,  natural  to  all  bad  people. 
It  must  then  be  one  of  two  things : either  your  religion,  in  spite 
of  its  inner  excellence,  cannot  be  practically  realised,  and  therefore 
is  of  no  use  even  to  you  who  profess  it ; or  you  are  so  bad  that 
you  do  not  want  to  fulfil  the  demands  which  you  can  and  you 
ought  to  fulfil.  In  either  case  you  have  no  advantage  over  us 
and  you  should  leave  us  in  peace.”  The  only  convincing  answer 
to  this  criticism  are  deeds  and  not  words.  Asia  would  be  neither 
justified  in  fighting  nor  capable  of  conquering  a Europe  that  was 
inwardly  united  and  truly  Christian. 


408  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

War  has  been  the  direct  means  of  the  external  and  the  indirect 
means  of  the  inward  unification  of  humanity.  Reason  forbids  us 
to  give  up  this  weapon  so  long  as  it  is  needed,  but  conscience 
compels  us  to  strive  that  it  should  be  needed  no  longer , and  that 
the  natural  organisation  of  the  human  race  divided  into  hostile 
parts  should  really  become  a moral  or  spiritual  organisation. 
Such  an  organisation  has  its  source  in  the  nature  of  man,  is  in- 
wardly based  upon  the  absolute  good,  and  attains  complete 
realisation  through  means  of  the  world  history.  The  description 
of  this  moral  organisation,  or  of  the  totality  of  the  moral  condi- 
tions which  justify  the  good  in  the  world,  must  be  the  coping- 
stone  of  moral  philosophy. 


CHAPTER  X 


THE  MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  AS  A WHOLE 

I 

The  natural  organisation  of  humanity  consists  in  the  fact  that 
different  individuals  and  groups  are  compelled  by  nature  to  inter- 
act in  such  a way  that  their  private  needs  and  activities  lead  to 
results  of  universal  significance  and  to  comparative  progress  of  the 
whole.  Thus  from  ancient  times  the  needs  of  the  shepherds  and 
the  agriculturists,  the  warlike  spirit  of  the  chieftains,  and  the  self- 
interested  enterprise  of  the  merchants  created  material  culture 
and  were  the  means  of  historical  progress.  This  natural  arrange- 
ment, owing  to  which  private  interests  lead  to  the  common  good, 
expresses  a certain  real  unity  of  the  human  race.  But  this  unity 
is  both  inwardly  and  outwardly  imperfect.  It  is  outwardly  im- 
perfect because,  as  a fact,  it  is  incomplete  ; it  is  imperfect  in- 
wardly because  it  is  not  the  object  of  the  conscious  will  of  the 
individuals  and  the  groups  which  enter  into  it.  Such  unconscious 
and  involuntary  solidarity  is  already  found  in  the  pre-human 
world  in  the  unity  of  the  genus  and  the  development  of  organic 
species.  To  advance  no  further  is  unworthy  of  man  in  whom 
the  objective  and  generic  reason  — the  universal  predicate  of 
nature — becomes  the  individual  subject.  What  is  needed  is  a 
moral,  conscious,  and  voluntary  organisation  of  humanity  for  the 
sake  of,  and  inspired  by,  the  all-embracing  good.  It  became  the 
direct  object  and  purpose  of  life  and  thought  from  the  moment 
when,  in  the  middle  of  the  historical  development,  this  good  was 
revealed  as  absolute  and  complete.  Unity  in  the  good  means 
not  only  a coexistence  of  private  interests  and  actions  and  a 
harmony  between  them  in  the  general  result,  but  a direct  co- 

409 


410  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

fellowship  of  individuals  and  of  social  groups  in  unanimous  striving 
to  attain  a universal  purpose — it  means  that  absolute  perfection 
is  taken  and  understood  by  each  as  his  own  purpose. 

The  purpose  of  the  moral  organisation  of  human  life  is  to 
realise  the  absolute  norm  of  the  good  or  of  the  active  (practical) 
perfection,  and  the  life  as  morally  organised  may  be  defined  as 
the  process  of  growing  perfect.  This  logically  involves  the 
question,  Who  is  growing  perfect  ? i.e.  the  question  as  to  the 
subject  of  the  moral  organisation.  We  know  that  isolated  in- 
dividuals do  not  exist  and  therefore  do  not  grow  in  perfection. 
The  true  subject  of  the  moral  progress  — as  well  as  of  the 
historical  progress  in  general— is  the  individual  man  together  with 
and  inseparably  from  the  collective  man  or  society.  Not  every 
configuration  of  molecules  forms  a living  cell,  and  not  every  con- 
glomeration of  cells  forms  a living  being.  Similarly  not  every 
gathering  of  individual  men  or  of  social  groups  constitutes  a true 
and  living  bearer  of  the  moral  organisation.  In  order  to  possess 
such  a significance,  i.e.  in  order  to  be  an  organic  complement  of 
the  moral  personality,  the  collective  whole  must  be  no  less  real 
than  the  individual,  and,  in  this  sense,  must  possess  the  same 
worth  and  the  same  rights  as  the  latter. 

The  natural  groups  which  actually  widen  the  life  of  the 
individual  are  the  family,  the  nation,  and  humanity — the  three 
abiding  stages  in  the  development  of  the  collective  man.  Corre- 
sponding to  them  we  have  in  the  historical  order  the  kinship-group 
stage,  the  nationally-political  stage,  and  the  spiritually  universal 
stage.  The  latter  may  only  be  revealed  on  condition  that  the 
first  two  become  spiritualised. 

It  will  be  asked  whether  the  family  is  to  form  part  of  the 
final  and  universal  organisation  of  morality  or  whether  it  is 
simply  a transitory  limitation  in  the  development  of  human  life. 
But  the  individual  person  in  his  given  condition  and  in  his  selfish 
striving  for  exclusive  separateness  is  also  only  a transitory  stage, 
just  like  the  nation  or  even  humanity  itself.  It  is  not  a question  of 
idealising  and  preserving  for  all  eternity  the  corruptible  aspect  of 
this  or  that  living  subject,  but  of  discovering  and  setting  aglow 
the  spark  of  divinity  hidden  under  the  corruption,  of  finding  the 
absolute  and  eternal  significance  inherent  in  the  conditional  and 
the  temporal,  and  of  affirming  it  not  as  a fixed  idea  only,  but 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  41  x 

as  the  beginning  of  fulfilment,  as  a token  of  perfection.  The 
positive  elements  of  life  in  their  relative  and  temporary  manifesta- 
tions must  be  understood  and  recognised  as  conditional  data  for  the 
solution  of  an  unconditional  problem.  In  the  case  of  the  family  these 
natural  data  are  the  three  generations  successively  connected  by 
the  fact  of  birth  : grandparents,  parents,  and  grandchildren. 

The  continuous  and  the  relative  character  of  the  bond  does  not 
abolish  its  triple  character  as  an  abiding  norm.  The  members  of 
the  series  which  extend  beyond  it  on  either  side — great-grand- 
parents and  great  - grandchildren  — constitute  no  independent 
element  in  the  idea  of  the  family  relation.  The  supreme  task 
is  to  spiritualise  the  relative  natural  connection  of  the  three 
generations  and  to  make  it  unconditionally  moral.  This  purpose 
is  achieved  in  three  ways  — through  family  religion,  marriage, 
and  the  bringing  up  of  children. 


II 

Family  religion  is  the  most  ancient,  deeply  rooted,  and  stable 
institution  of  humanity.  It  has  survived  the  patriarchal  stage 
and  all  the  religious  and  political  changes.  The  object  of  family 
religion  is  the  older  generation,  the  departed  fathers  or'  forefathers. 
According  to  the  most  ancient  ideas,  the  forefathers  must 
necessarily  be  dead  ; this  was  so  inevitable  that,  by  a natural  pro- 
cess of  thought,  all  the  dead,  independently  of  their  age  and  sex, 
were  called  forefathers  (the  Lithuanian  and  Polish  dziady — a relic 
of  remote  antiquity).  If  a real  grandfather  happened  to  live  too 
long,  it  was  out  of  order,  it  violated  the  religiously  moral  norm, 
which,  however,  was  easily  re-established  by  the  voluntary  sacrifice 
of  the  old  man.  This  barbarous  practice  really  contained  a true 
idea,  or,  rather,  two  true  ideas — -in  the  first  place  that  a being 
who  is  on  the  same  level  as  man  and  has  the  same  needs  and 
faculties  cannot  be  the  true  object  of  reverence  and  worship,  and, 
secondly,  that  in  order  to  have  a powerful  and  beneficial  influence 
in  the  earthly  sphere,  such  as  is  characteristic  of  a higher  being, 
one  must  withdraw  from  that  sphere  and  sever  one’s  immediate 
physical  connection  with  it.  If  family  worship  of  the  older 
generation  was  to  be  maintained  in  the  epoch  when  force  pre- 
dominated, it  could  not  be  allowed  to  be  associated  with  the 


412  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

spectacle  of  debility  and  weakness.  The  old  men  understood  it 
themselves  and  with  noble  wisdom  parted  in  good  time  with  their 
enfeebled  life  for  the  sake  of  another,  powerful  and  mysterious 
existence. 

“ My  day  is  drawing  to  its  close,”  the  Konung  thus  began, 

“ Mead  does  not  taste  sweet  to  me,  my  helmet  weighs  me  down. 

“Make  then  two  mounds  for  us,  O sons, 

On  the  banks  of  the  bay,  by  the  wave-beaten  shore. 

“ When  the  rocks  are  white  with  the  light  of  the  moon, 

And  wet  our  graves  with  the  dew, 

We  shall  rise  from  the  hills,  from  the  waters,  O Thorsten, 

And  whisper  of  the  days  to  be.” 

Even  in  the  heathen  ancestor-worship  the  natural  bond  between 
the  successive  generations  tended  to  acquire  a spiritual  and  moral 
meaning.  A complete  realisation  of  this  religious  bond  with  the 
forefathers  is  made  possible  through  the  revelation  of  the  absolute 
significance  of  life  in  Christianity.  Instead  of  the  material 
sacrificial  feeding  of  the  departed  who  on  their  side  help  the  living 
in  affairs  of  this  world,  there  is  established  a' spiritual  interaction 
in  prayer  and  sacrament.  Both  sides  pray  for  one  another,  both 
help  one  another  in  attaining  an  eternal  good . Both  are  con- 
cerned with  an  unconditional  good — the  salvation  of  the  soul. 
Eternal  memory,1  rest  with  the  saints,  universal  resurrection  of 
life — this  is  what  the  living  desire  for  the  departed , what  they 
help  them  to  attain,  and  it  is  in  this  that  they  expect  help  from 
the  departed  for  themselves.  The  mutual  relation,  as  it  enters  the 
sphere  of  the  absolute,  ceases  to  be  self-interested  and  becomes 
purely  moral,  being  understood  and  carried  out  as  part  of  the  per- 
fect good. 

Eternal  memory  does  not  mean,  of  course,  that  people  on  earth 
will  eternally  remember  the  dead  as  those  who  have  been  and  are 
no  more.  To  begin  with,  it  would  not  be  of  much  import- 
ance for  the  dead,  and,  secondly,  it  is  impossible,  since  earthly 
humanity  itself  ought  certainly  not  to  expect  an  eternal  continua- 
tion of  its  temporal  existence — if  there  is  any  meaning  in  the 
world.  We  ask  eternal  memory  of  God  and  not  of  men,  and 

1 The  prayer  for  granting  ‘eternal  memory’  to  the  departed  forms  an  important  part 
of  the  funeral  and  the  requiem  services  in  the  Orthodox  Church. — Translator’s  Note. 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  413 


it  means  dwelling  in  the  eternal  mind  of  God.  £To  grant 
eternal  memory  ’ means  to  make  a man  conformable  to  his 
eternal  idea — to  God’s  eternal  thought  about  him,  and  to  raise 
him  to  the  sphere  of  the  absolute  and  the  changeless.  By  com- 
parison with  the  anxieties  of  the  world,  it  is  eternal  rest. 
Death  as  such  is  not  rest,  and  the  dead  among  natural 
humanity  may  be  more  appropriately  described  as  restless  (the 
French  revenant , the  German  Poltergeister ) than  as  those  at 
rest.  The  rest  we  ask  for  our  departed  depends  upon  God’s 
eternal  memory  of  them.  Affirmed  in  their  absolute  idea,  they 
find  in  it  a secure  and  indefeasible  token  that  the  perfect  good 
will  be  finally  realised  in  the  world,  and  therefore  they  cannot  be 
troubled.  The  distinction  between  the  present  and  the  future 
still  exists  for  them,  but  no  element  of  doubt  or  anxiety  attaches 
to  that  future.  It  is  separated  from  them  only  by  an  inevitable 
delay,  and  they  may  already  contemplate  it  sub  specie  aeternitatis. 
But  for  those  who  die  in  the  natural  humanity,  the  future, 
though  it  becomes  their  main  interest,  still  remains  an  awe-inspir- 
ing riddle  and  mystery. 

We  shall  rise  from  the  hills,  from  the  waters,  O Thorsten, 

And  whisper  of  the  days  to  be. 

Eternal  rest  is  not  inactivity.  The  departed  remain  active,  but 
the  character  of  the  activity  is  essentially  changed.  It  no  longer 
springs  from  an  anxious  striving  towards  a distant  and  uncertain 
end.  It  proceeds  on  the  basis  and  in  virtue  of  the  already  attained 
and  the  ever  - abiding  connection  with  the  absolute  good. 
Therefore  in  this  case  activity  is  compatible  with  serene  and 
happy  rest.  And  just  as  the  beneficial  influence  of  the  departed 
expresses  their  moral  connection  with  their  neighbours  in  nature , 
their  living  posterity,  so  in  their  blessed  rest  they  are  inseparable 
from  their  neighbours  in  God  and  in  eternity.  It  is  rest  with  the 
saints. 

This  is  the  ideal.  If  it  is  not  attained  by  all,  if  the  de- 
parted are  not  all  at  rest,  if  not  all  to  whom  c eternal  memory  ’ 
is  sung  deserve  it  of  God,  this  fact  in  no  way  affects  our  religious 
attitude  to  the  ‘ forefathers,’  which  is  the  foundation  of  the  family 
morality,  and,  through  it,  of  all  morality.  For  in  the  first  place 
the  actual  destiny  of  each  of  the  departed  remains  for  us,  after  all, 
problematical  only.  Secondly,  even  if  the  unfavourable  supposi- 


414  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

tion  is  the  more  probable  one,  our  religious  attitude  simply 
acquires  a different  character,  and  the  feeling  of  pity  which  comes 
to  be  added  to  it  prompts  us  to  more  active  intercession.  Finally, 
in  the  case  of  each  person  the  majority,  or  at  any  rate  a certain 
number,  of  his  ancestors  satisfy  the  demands  of  the  1 eternal 
memory  ’ and  of  ‘ rest  with  the  saints.’  Therefore  every  man  in 
addition  to  all  other  relations  is  bound  to  have  a generic  bond,  a 
bond  of  kinship  with  the  world  of  God’s  eternity.  In  this 
essential  respect  the  family  may  have  an  absolute  significance  for 
every  one,  and,  through  the  abiding  past,  be  the  true  complement 
of  our  moral  personality. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  fulness  of  life  for  the  forefathers,  even 
when  they  are  eternally  remembered  by  God  and  are  at  rest  with 
the  saints,  depends  upon  the  work  of  their  descendants  who  bring 
about  the  earthly  conditions  under  which  the  end  of  the  world 
process  may  come,  and,  with  it,  the  bodily  resurrection  of  the 
departed.  Each  of  the  departed  is  naturally  connected  with  the 
final  humanity  of  the  future  through  the  blood  tie  of  successive 
generations.1  By  spiritualising  his  bodily  organism  and  the 
external  material  nature,  each  fulfils  his  duty  in  relation  to  his 
forefathers,  and  pays  his  moral  debt  to  them.  Having  received 
from  them  physical  existence  and  all  the  legacy  of  the  past  ages, 
the  new  generation  continues  further  the  work  which  will  finally 
make  the  fulness  of  life  possible  for  the  departed  also.  Thus 
from  this  new  point  of  view,  the  natural  bond  with  former  genera- 
tions, or  the  family  religion  of  the  past,  acquires  an  absolute 
significance  and  becomes  an  expression  of  the  perfect  good. 

It  is  only  when  the  purpose  shall  have  been  reached  that  man’s 
work  of  spiritualising  his  body  and  the  earthly  nature  in  general 
will  be  reflected  backwards  and  exercise  its  beneficial  influence 
upon  the  past.  It  is  only  in  the  future  that  the  past  will  attain 
the  fulness  of  reality.  But  until  this  task  is  accomplished,  until 
the  perfection  of  life  is  attained  in  which  the  spiritual  and  the 
corporeal  being  will  entirely  interpenetrate  one  another,  until  the 
gulf  between  the  visible  and  the  invisible  world  is  bridged  and 

1 I cannot  enlarge  upon  the  details  of  this  connection  and  upon  other  cognate 
questions  without  passing  into  the  sphere  of  metaphysics  and  mystical  aesthetics.  But 
the  general  necessity  of  resurrection  as  the  fulness  of  the  spiritual  and  bodily  existence 
is  sufficiently  clear  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  absolute  moral  principle  and  of  the 
moral  order  of  reality. 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  415 


death  becomes  impossible  both  for  the  living  and  for  the  dead — 
until  then  the  necessary  condition  of  this  future  perfection  and 
the  moral  problem  of  the  present  state  is  the  struggle  of  the  spirit 
with  the  flesh,  its  strengthening  and  concentration.  The  present 
means  of  bodily  resurrection  is  the  subjugation  of  the  flesh  ; the 
necessary  condition  of  the  fulness  of  life  is  asceticism  or  the  sup- 
pression of  the  unlimited  vitality.  True  asceticism,  i.e.  spiritual 
power  over  the  flesh  leading  to  the  resurrection  of  life,  has  two 
forms — monasticism  and  marriage.  The  first,  exclusive  and  ex- 
ceptional, has  already  been  discussed  elsewhere  ; 1 the  explanation 
of  the  second  forms  part  of  the  argument  now  before  us. 

Ill 

It  is  not  for  nothing  that  the  relation,  which  appears  to  be  so 
simple,  and  the  physical  basis  of  which  is  found  in  the  animal  and 
even  in  the  vegetable  kingdom,  is  called  £ a great  mystery,’  and  is 
recognised  as  the  abiding  symbol,  sanctified  by  the  word  of  God, 
of  the  union  of  the  God  of  Israel  with  His  people,  of  Christ 
crucified  with  the  earthly  church,  and  of  Christ  the  King  of 
Glory  with  the  New  Jerusalem.  Reverence  for  the  forefathers 
and  religious  interaction  with  them  connects  man  with  the  perfect 
good  through  the  past ; true  marriage  has  the  same  significance 
for  the  present,  for  the  central  period  of  life.  It  is  the  realisation 
of  the  absolute  moral  norm  in  the  vital  centre  of  human  existence. 
The  opposition  of  the  sexes,  which  in  the  world  of  pre-human 
organisms  expresses  simply  a general  interaction  between  life  as 
giving,  and  as  receiving,  form,  between  the  active  and  the  passive 
principles,  acquires  a more  definite  and  profound  meaning  in  the 
case  of  man.  Woman,  unlike  the  female  of  animals,  is  not  merely 
the  embodiment  of  the  passively  receptive  aspect  of  the  material 
reality.  She  is  the  concentrated  substance  of  nature  as  a whole, 
the  final  expression  of  the  material  world  in  its  inward  passivity, 
as  ready  to  pass  into  a new  and  higher  kingdom  and  be  morally 
spiritualised.  And  man  in  his  relation  to  woman  does  not  merely 
represent  the  active  principle  as  such,  but  is  the  bearer  of  the 
purely  human  activity,  determined  by  the  absolute  meaning  of 
life,  in  which  woman  comes  to  participate  through  him.  And 

1 See  above,  Part  I.  Chapter  II.,  ‘The  Ascetic  Principle  of  Morality.’ 


416  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

he  in  his  turn  owes  to  her  the  possibility  of  realising  that  meaning 
or  the  absolute  good  in  a direct  and  immediate  way. 

The  highest  morality,  proceeding  from  the  absolute  principle 
and  determined  by  it  (that  which  in  theology  is  called  grace),  does 
not  annihilate  nature  but  imparts  true  perfection  to  it.  The 
natural  relation  between  man  and  woman  involves  three  elements  : 
(i)  the  material, , namely,  the  physical  attraction,  due  to  the  nature 
of  the  organism  ; (2)  the  ideal,  that  exaltation  of  feeling  which  is 
called  being  in  love  ; and,  finally,  (3)  the  purpose  of  the  natural 
sexual  relation  or  its  final  result,  namely,  reproduction. 

In  true  marriage  the  natural  bond  between  the  sexes  does  not 
disappear  but  is  transmuted.  Until,  however,  this  transmutation 
becomes  a fact,  it  is  a moral  problem,  for  which  the  elements  of 
the  natural  sexual  relation  are  the  data.  The  chief  significance 
belongs  to  the  intermediate  element  — the  exaltation  or  the 
ecstasy  of  love.  In  virtue  of  it  man  sees  his  natural  com- 
plement, his  material  other — the  woman, — not  as  she  appears 
to  external  observation,  not  as  others  see  her,  but  gains  insight 
into  her  true  essence  or  idea.  He  sees  her  as  she  was  from  the 
first  destined  to  be,  as  God  saw  her  from  all  eternity,  and  as  she 
shall  be  in  the  end.  Material  nature  in  its  highest  individual 
expression — the  woman — is  here  truly  recognised  as  possessed  of 
absolute  worth  ; she  is  affirmed  as  an  end  in  herself,  an  entity 
capable  of  spiritualisation  and  ‘deification.’  From  such  re- 
cognition follows  the  moral  duty  — so  to  act  as  to  realise  in 
this  actual  woman  and  in  her  life  that  which  she  ought  to 
be.  The  highest  form  of  love  in  woman  has  a corresponding 
character.  The  man  whom  she  has  chosen  appears  to  her  as  her 
true  saviour,  destined  to  reveal  to  her  and  to  realise  for  her  the 
meaning  of  her  life. 

Marriage  remains  the  satisfaction  of  the  sexual  want,  which, 
however,  no  longer  refers  to  the  external  nature  of  the  animal 
organism,  but  to  the  nature  that  is  human  and  is  awaiting  to 
become  divine.  A tremendous  problem  arises  which  can  only  be 
solved  by  constant  renunciation.  To  be  victorious  in  the  struggle 
with  the  hostile  reality  the  soul  has  to  pass  through  martyrdom ,x 

1 D.  P.  Yurkevitch,  Professor  of  Philosophy,  now  deceased,  told  me  that  a young 
scholar,  son  of  an  evangelical  pastor  in  Moscow,  was  present  once  at  the  marriage 
ceremony  in  the  Russian  Church,  and  was  very  much  struck  by  the  fact  that  in  the 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  417 

From  this  point  of  view  the  complete  and  real  satisfaction  which 
includes  bodily  sensibility  is  connected  not  with  desire  that  precedes 
it,  but  with  the  subsequent  joy  of  realised  perfection. 

It  is  obvious,  of  course,  that  in  a perfect  marriage  in  which 
the  inner  completeness  of  the  human  being  is  finally  attained 
through  a perfect  union  with  the  spiritualised  material  essence, 
reproduction  becomes  both  unnecessary  and  impossible.  It 
becomes  unnecessary  because  the  supreme  purpose  has  been 
achieved,  the  final  goal  attained.  It  becomes  impossible,  just  as 
it  is  impossible  that  when  two  equal  geometrical  figures  are  placed 
one  upon  the  other  there  should  be  a remainder  that  does  not 
coincide.  The  perfect  marriage  is  the  beginning  of  a new  pro- 
cess which  does  not  reproduce  life  in  time  but  re-creates  it  for 
eternity.  But  we  must  not  forget  that  perfect  marriage  is  not 
necessarily  the  original  condition  of,  but  only  the  final  means  for, 
the  moral  union  of  man  and  woman.  One  cannot  assume  this 
higher  stage  from  the  first,  just  as  one  cannot  begin  to  build  a 
house  by  making  a roof,  or  call  the  roof  a real  house.  The  true 
human  marriage  is  one  which  consciously  aims  at  the  perfect 
union  of  man  and  woman,  at  the  creation  of  the  complete  human 
being.  So  long,  however,  as  it  merely  aims  at  this  and  has  not 
yet  actually  realised  the  idea,  so  long  as  there  still  is  a duality 
between  the  idea  and  the  empirical  material  reality  opposed  to  it, 
so  long  external,  physical  reproduction  is  both  the  natural  conse- 
quence of  the  perfection  not  yet  attained  and  the  necessary  means  for  its 
future  attainment.  It  is  clear  that  so  long  as  the  union  of  man 
and  woman  is  not  wholly  spiritualised,  so  long  as  it  is  complete  in 
idea  and  subjective  feeling  only,  and  in  objective  reality  continues 
to  be  superficial  and  external  like  that  of  animals,  it  can  have  no 
other  result.  But  it  is  equally  clear  that  in  the  present  imperfect 
condition  this  result  is  of  supreme  importance,  for  the  children  will 
do  what  the  parents  failed  to  accomplish.  The  external,  temporal 
succession  of  generations  exists  because  marriage  has  not  yet 


service  the  bridal  crowns  are  compared  to  crowns  of  the  martyrs.  This  profound  idea 
affected  him  so  deeply  that  it  caused  a complete  revolution  in  his  mind.  As  a result 
of  it,  the  young  philologist  gave  up  worldly  learning  and  the  university  chair  he  was 
going  to  occupy,  and,  to  the  distress  of  his  relatives,  went  into  a monastery.  He  was 
the  well-known  Father  Clement  Sederholm,  of  whose  life  and  character  the  late  K..  N. 
Leontyev  wrote  so  excellent  an  account. 


4i 8 THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

attained  perfection,  because  the  union  of  individual  man  and 
woman  is  not  sufficiently  spiritual  and  inwardly  complete  to  re- 
create in  them  the  perfect  human  being  in  the  image  and  likeness 
of  God.  But  this  ‘ because'  also  proves  to  be  '•in  order  that' — namely, 
in  order  that  the  task  which  has  been  too  great  for  the  strength 
of  this  individual  being  (man  and  woman)  should  be  realised  by 
him  indirectly,  through  a series  of  future  generations  taking  their 
start  from  him.  Thus  the  inward  completeness  and  the  uncon- 
ditional meaning  of  family  is  re-established  ; man  even  in  his 
imperfect  state  retains  his  absolute  significance,  and  the  living 
bond  between  the  temporal  members  of  the  series,  extending  to 
eternity,  remains  unbroken. 

For  the  moral  organisation  of  humanity  the  connection  with 
the  past  through  heredity  alone,  through  the  fact  of  descent,  i.e. 
from  a particular  line  of  ancestors,  is  insufficient ; there  must 
also  be  an  abiding  moral  bond,  and  this  is  found  in  the  family 
religion.  Further,  so  far  as  the  present  is  concerned,  the  natural 
fact  of  the  sexual  relation  is  also  insufficient  for  that  organisation  ; 
the  relation  must  be  raised  to  the  spiritual  level,  which  is  done  in 
true  marriage.  Finally,  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  future,  it 
is  not  enough  for  the  moral  organisation  of  the  collective  man 
that  the  children  should  be  simply  a new  generation,  with  an 
unknown  future  before  it  ; in  addition  to  the  fact  of  external 
succession  there  must  be  the  inner  moral  succession  as  well — the 
parents  must  not  merely  produce  the  children  for  the  future,  but 
are  in  duty  bound  to  bring  them  up  so  that  they  could  work  in 
the  future  for  the  realisation  of  their  world-wide  historical  task. 

IV 

The  natural  moral  feeling  of  pity  which  does  not  permit  us  to 
injure  our  neighbours  and  compels  us  to  help  them  is  naturally 
concentrated  upon  those  of  them  who  are  most  intimately  related 
to  us  and  at  the  same  time  need  our  help  most  — that  is,  on 
the  children.  This  relation  has  a moral  character  when  the 
family  is  simply  an  empirical  factor  in  the  natural  life  of  man  ; it 
acquires  an  absolute  significance  when  the  family  becomes  the 
basis  of  a new,  spiritually-organised  life. 

The  moral  significance  of  marriage  consists  in  the  fact  that 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  419 


woman  ceases  to  be  the  instrument  of  natural  desires  but  is  recog- 
nised as  a being  possessed  of  absolute  worth,  as  a complement 
necessary  to  make  the  individual  man  truly  whole.  When  the 
marriage  fails  or  does  not  completely  succeed  in  realising  this 
absolute  significance  of  human  individuality,  the  task  acquires  a 
different  object  and  is  transferred  to  the  children  as  bearers  of  the 
future.  With  the  simple  natural  pity  for  the  weak  and  suffering 
offspring  comes  to  be  associated  the  world-woe  for  the  evils  and 
troubles  of  life,  the  hope  that  these  new  beings  shall  be  able  to 
lighten  the  universal  burden,  and,  finally,  the  duty  to  preserve 
them  for  this  work  and  to  prepare  them  for  it. 

In  a spiritually-organised  family  the  relation  of  the  parents  to 
children  is  chiefly  determined  by  the  conception  of  the  supreme 
destiny  of  man.  The  purpose  of  education  is  to  connect  the 
temporal  life  of  this  future  generation  with  the  supreme  and  eternal 
good  which  is  common  to  all  generations,  and  in  which  the  grand- 
parents, parents,  and  children  are  indivisibly  one.  For  it  is  only 
through  abolishing  the  temporal  disruption  of  humanity  into 
generations  that  exclude  and  expel  one  another  from  existence 
that  the  Kingdom  of  God  can  be  revealed  and  the  resurrection  of  life 
accomplished.  But  until  the  perfection  is  reached,  the  moral  bond 
between  generations  and  the  absolute  supertemporal  unity  of  man 
is  maintained  by  reverent  regard  for  the  forefathers  on  the  one 
hand,  and  by  the  bringing  up  of  children  on  the  other. 

There  is  a great  argument  going  on  in  man  between  Time  and 
Eternity  as  to  who  is  the  stronger — the  Good  or  Death.  “Your 
fathers,”  says  the  Prince  of  this  world  to  man,  “those  through 
whom  you  have  received  everything  you  possess,  were  and  are  no 
more,  nor  ever  shall  be;  but,  if  so,  where  is  the  Good?  You  are  recon- 
ciled to  the  death  of  your  fathers,  you  sanction  it  by  your  consent, 
you  live  and  enjoy  yourself  whilst  those  to  whom  you  owe  your  existence 
are  gone  forever.  Where,  then,  is  the  good,  where  is  the  very  source 
of  piety — gratitude,  where  is  pity,  where  is  shame  ? Have  they  not 
been  completely  conquered  by  selfishness,  self-seeking,  sensuality  ? 
Yet  do  not  despair.  This  condemnation  of  your  life  has  meaning 
only  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  Good,  only  on  the  supposition 
that  the  Good  exists.  But  this  is  just  where  the  fundamental  error 
lies  : there  is  no  Good.  If  there  were,  either  your  fathers  would 
not  have  died,  or  you  could  not  have  been  reconciled  to  their  death. 


420  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

And  now  it  is  clear  that  the  Good,  with  its  fictitious  demands  and 
standards  of  piety,  shame,  and  pity,  is  but  an  empty  claim.  If  you 
want  to  live,  live  forgetful  of  the  Good,  for  it  has  been  swallowed 
up  by  death,  is  no  more  and  never  shall  be.”  “Your  fathers  died, 
but  they  have  not  ceased  to  exist,  for  the  keys  of  life  are  in  my 
hands,”  says  Eternity.  “ Believe  not  that  they  disappeared.  That 
you  might  behold  them  again  bind  yourself  to  the  unseen  by  the 
secure  bond  of  the  Good  : revere  them,  pity  them,  be  ashamed  to 
forget  them.”  “ Illusion  ! ” says  the  Prince  of  Time  again.  “You 
may  believe  in  their  hidden  subjective  existence  if  you  like  ; but 
if  you  are  not  content  with  such  a counterfeit  of  life  for  yourself, 
and  cling  to  the  fulness  of  the  visible  objective  life,  then,  if  the 
Good  exists,  you  must  demand  the  same  for  your  fathers.  But  the 
visible  objective  existence — the  only  one  worth  speaking  about — 
has  been  lost  by  your  fathers,  and  shall  never  more  be  returned  to 
them.  Renounce,  then,  the  impotent  Good,  the  exhausting  struggle 
with  chimeras,  and  enjoy  life  to  the  full.”  But  the  last  word  is 
with  Eternity,  which,  admitting  the  past,  appeals  all  the  more  con- 
fidently to  the  future.  “ The  Good  does  not  depend  upon  the 
degree  of  your  power,  and  your  weakness  is  not  the  impotence  of 
the  Good.  And  you  yourself  are  only  impotent  when  you  do  not 
go  beyond  your  own  self ; the  incompleteness  of  your  life  is  your 
own  doing.  In  truth  all  is  open  to  you.  Live  in  all  things,  be 
a unity  of  yourself  and  your  other,  not  only  in  relation  to  the  past, 
to  your  forefathers,  but  also  in  relation  to  the  future.  Affirm  your- 
self in  new  generations  that  with  active  help  from  you  they  might 
bring  the  world  to  that  final  stage  in  which  God  will  give  back  the 
fulness  of  life  to  all — to  them  themselves,  to  you,  and  to  your  fathers 
before  you.  By  doing  this  you  can  at  the  present  moment  show 
the  absolute  power  of  the  Good  over  time  and  death,  not  by  idly 
denying  them,  but  by  making  use  of  them  for  the  full  and  perfect 
revelation  of  the  immortal  life.  Make  use  of  the  death  of  your 
forefathers,  so  as  to  preserve,  in  the  religious  regard  for  the  departed, 
a sure  token  of  their  resurrection.  Make  use  of  your  temporal 
existence,  so  that,  by  giving  it  to  posterity,  by  transferring  the 
centre  of  your  moral  gravity  into  the  future,  you  might  anticipate 
and  bring  nearer  the  final  revelation  of  the  Kingdom  of  God  in 
the  world.” 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  421 


V 

Even  the  conventional  everyday  morality  demands  that  man 
should  hand  down  to  his  children  not  only  the  goods  he  has 
acquired,  but  also  the  capacity  to  work  for  the  further  maintenance 
of  their  lives.  The  supreme  and  unconditional  morality  also 
requires  that  the  present  generation  should  leave  a twofold  legacy 
to  the  next, — in  the  first  place,  all  the  positive  acquisitions  of  the 
past,  all  the  savings  of  history  ; and,  secondly,  the  capacity  and  the 
readiness  to  use  this  capital  for  the  common  good,  for  a nearer 
approach  to  the  supreme  goal.  This  is  the  essential  purpose  of 
true  education,  which  must  be  at  once  both  traditional  and  pro- 
gressive. The  division  and  opposition  between  these  two  factors 
of  the  true  life — between  the  ground  and  that  which  is  built  upon 
it,  between  the  root  and  that  which  grows  out  of  it — is  absurd  and 
detrimental  to  both  sides.  If  the  past  that  is  good  is  self-contained 
and  is  no  longer  a real  foundation  for  the  new  that  is  better,  it 
means  that  the  old  has  lost  its  vital  force.  In  regarding  it  as 
finished  and  worshipping  it  in  this  form  as  an  external  object,  we 
make  religion  into  a relic — dead,  but  not  working  miracles.  This 
is  the  besetting  sin  of  popular  conservatism  which  strives  to  replace 
the  living  fruits  of  the  spirit  by  artificial  preserves.  In  so  far  as  it 
finds  expression  in  religion,  this  pseudo-conservatism  produces  men 
who  are  hostile  and  indifferent  to  religion.  Faith  cannot  be  the 
consequence  of  such  bringing  up,  since  it  is  absent  from  the  ground 
of  it.  It  is  obvious,  indeed,  that  exclusive  zeal  for  preserving  faith 
can  only  be  due  to  the  lack  of  faith  in  the  zealots  themselves. 
They  would  have  neither  time  nor  occasion  to  be  so  distressed  and 
worried  about  faith  if  they  lived  by  faith. 

When  tradition  is  put  in  the  place  of  its  object — when,  e.g .,  the 
traditional  conception  of  Christ  is  preserved  in  absolute  purity,  but 
the  presence  of  Christ  Himself  and  of  His  spirit  is  not  felt — religious 
life  becomes  impossible,  and  all  efforts  artificially  to  evoke  it  only 
make  the  fatal  loss  more  clear. 

But  can  the  life  of  the  future  grow  out  of  a past  that  is 
really  dead  ? If  there  is  no  real  connection  between  the  parts 
of  time,  what  is  the  meaning  of  progress  ? hVho  is  it  that 
progresses  ? Could  a tree  actually  grow  if  its  roots  and 
trunk  existed  in  thought  only,  and  its  branches  and  leaves  alone 


422  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

were  actually  real  ? Without  dwelling  at  present  upon  the 
logical  absurdity  involved  in  this  point  of  view,  let  us  deal  with  its 
ethical  aspect  alone.  Man  as  a moral  being  has  absolute  worth  ; 
his  present  condition,  taken  as  such,  does  not  correspond,  or  is 
inadequate  to  that  worth.  Hence  arises  the  moral  problem,  not  to 
separate  oneself,  one’s  own  personality  and  existence,  from  the 
absolute  good  which  abides  as  the  one  in  all.  In  so  far  as  a moral 
being  is  inwardly  related  to  all,  he  really  has  absolute  worth  and 
his  dignity  is  satisfied.  In  the  order  of  time  the  all  from  which 
we  must  not  separate  ourselves,  and  to  which  we  must  be  inwardly 
united,  appears  in  two  immediate  ways,  as  our  past  and  as  our 
future , as  ancestors  and  posterity.  In  order  to  realise  our  moral 
dignity  in  time,  we  must  spiritually  become  that  which  physically 
we  are  already,  namely,  a uniting  and  intermediate  link  between 
the  two.  And  to  do  so  we  must  recognise  the  abiding  reality  of 
the  departed  and  the  unconditional  future  of  the  posterity.  We 
must  not  regard  the  deceased  as  ended.  They  are  bearers  of  the 
absolute  principle,  which  must  be  completely  realised  for  them 
also.  The  departed,  the  forefathers,  living  in  the  memory  of  the 
past,  have  also  a hidden  existence  in  the  present,  which  will  become 
manifest  in  the  future.  They  have  both  future  and  actuality. 

It  is  on  this  basis  alone  that  true  education  is  possible.  If  we 
are  indifferent  to  the  future  of  our  forefathers,  we  can  have  no 
motive  for  caring  about  the  future  of  the  new  generation.  If  we 
can  have  no  absolute  moral  solidarity  with  those  who  died , there 
can  be  no  ground  for  such  solidarity  with  those  who  certainly 
will  die.  In  so  far  as  education  mainly  consists  in  transferring  moral 
duty  from  one  generation  to  another,  the  question  arises  what 
duty  and  in  relation  to  whom  are  we  to  hand  down  to  our  successors, 
if  our  own  bond  with  our  ancestors  be  severed.  It  would  be  a 
mere  play  of  words  to  say  that  it  is  the  duty  to  move  humanity 
forward,  for  neither  ‘forward’  nor  ‘humanity’  have  in  this  case 
any  real  meaning.  ‘ Forward  ’ must  mean  to  the  good,  but  there 
can  be  no  good  if  we  start  with  evil — the  most  elementary  and 
unquestionable  evil  of  ingratitude  to  the  fathers,  acquiescence  in 
their  disappearance,  callous  separation  and  estrangement  from  them. 
And  what  is  the  humanity  which  our  pupils  and  successors  are  to 
move  forward  ? Do  last  year’s  leaves,  scattered  by  the  wind  and 
rotten  on  the  ground,  form  part,  together  with  the  new  leaves, 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  423 

of  one  and  the  same  tree?  From  this  point  of  view  there  is  no 
humanity  at  all,  and  what  exists  are  merely  separate  generations 
of  men  that  replace  one  another. 

If  this  external  relation,  which  is  constantly  passing  away,  is 
to  be  replaced  by  the  real  and  abiding  moral  tie,  this  obviously 
must  be  done  in  two  directions.  The  form  of  time,  in  itself 
morally  indifferent,  cannot  really  determine  our  moral  relations. 
Compromise  here  is  impossible — there  cannot  be  two  absolute 
principles  of  life.  The  question  whether  we  attach  absolute  signi- 
ficance to  the  temporal  order  of  events  or  to  the  moral  order,  that 
is,  to  the  inner  bond  between  beings,  must  be  settled  finally  and 
once  for  all.  If  the  first  alternative  be  adopted,  humanity,  irre- 
mediably broken  up  in  time,  is  devoid  of  real  unity  ; there  can  be 
no  common  task  and  therefore  no  duty  to  bring  up  future  genera- 
tions that  they  might  carry  it  on  further.  In  case  of  the  second 
alternative,  however,  education  inevitably  involves  reverence  for 
the  past,  of  which  it  is  the  natural  complement.  This  traditional 
element  in  education  conditions  its  progressive  character,  since 
moral  progress  can  only  consist  in  a better  and  more  far-reaching  fulfil- 
ment of  the  duties  which  follow  from  tradition. 

The  absolute  worth  of  man — his  capacity  to  be  the  bearer  of 
eternal  life  and  to  participate  in  the  divine  fulness  of  being — 
which  we  religiously  revere  in  the  departed,  we  morally  educate 
in  the  coming  generation  by  affirming  that  the  two  are  connected 
by  a bond  that  triumphs  over  time  and  death.  Special  problems, 
the  technique  of  education,  belong  to  a sphere  of  its  own  which  I 
need  not  touch  upon  here.  But  if  pedagogy  is  to  be  based  upon 
a positive  universal  principle,  indisputable  from  the  moral  point  of 
view  and  bestowing  absolute  worth  upon  its  aims,  it  can  find  it 
only  in  the  indissoluble  bond  between  generations  which  support 
one  another  in  furthering  one  common  task  — the  task  of 
preparing  for  the  revelation  of  the  kingdom  of  God  and  for  universal 
resurrection. 


VI 

Reverence  for  the  forefathers  and  family  education  based  upon 
it  overcome  the  immoral  separateness  and  re-establish  the  moral 
solidarity  of  men  in  the  order  of  time  or  in  the  succession  of  existence. 


424  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

It  is  a victory  of  the  good  over  individual  selfishness — the  affirma- 
tion of  the  personality  as  a positive  element  in  the  family  union 
which  abides  in  spite  of  time  and  death.  But  if  it  is  to  be  the 
basis  of  a moral  and,  therefore,  a universal  organisation,  if  it  is  to 
be  the  incipient  form  of  the  absolute  and  therefore  all-embracing 
good,  this  union  cannot  be  self-contained,  limited,  and  exclusive. 
The  family  directly  re-establishes  the  moral  wholeness  in  one 
fundamental  relation — that  of  the  succession  of  generations.  This 
wholeness,  however,  must  also  be  re-established  in  the  order  of 
coexistence. 

The  linear  infinity  of  the  family  can  only  become  morally 
complete  in  another  wider  whole — just  as  a geometrical  line 
becomes  real  only  as  the  limit  of  a surface,  which  has  the  same 
relation  to  the  line  as  the  line  itself  has  to  a point.  The 
moral  point — the  single  individual — has  actual  reality  only  as 
the  bearer  of  generic  succession.  The  whole  line  of  this  suc- 
cession becomes  truly  real  only  in  connection  with  a multitude 
of  collectively  coexisting  families  which  constitute  a nation.  We 
received  all  our  physical  and  moral  possessions  from  our  fathers, 
and  the  fathers  had  them  only  through  the  fatherland.  Family  tradi- 
tions are  fractions  of  the  national  traditions  ; the  future  of  the 
family  is  inseparable  from  the  future  of  the  nation.  Therefore 
reverence  for  the  fathers  necessarily  passes  into  reverence  for  the 
fatherland  or  into  patriotism,  and  family  education  is  linked  with 
national  education. 

The  good  which  is  in  its  essence  inexhaustible  and  ungrudging 
bestows  upon  every  subject  of  moral  relations,  whether  individual 
or  collective,  an  inner  dignity  and  absolute  worth  of  its  own. 
For  this  reason  the  moral  bond  and  the  moral  organisation  differs 
essentially  from  every  other  by  the  fact  that  in  it  the  subject  of 
the  lower,  or,  more  strictly,  of  the  narrower  order  in  becoming 
the  subordinate  member  of  a higher  or  a wider  whole,  is  not 
absorbed  by  it,  but  preserves  its  own  individual  peculiarity.  Indeed, 
it  finds  in  this  subordination  both  the  inner  condition  and  the 
external  environment  for  realising  its  highest  dignity.  Just  as 
the  family  does  not  blot  out  its  individual  members,  but  gives 
them,  within  a certain  sphere,  the  fulness  of  life,  and  lives  not  by 
them  only,  but  also  in  and  for  them,  so  the  nation  absorbs  neither 
the  individual  nor  the  family,  but  fills  them  with  living  content 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  425 

in  a definite  national  form.  This  definite  form,  which  constitutes 
the  particular  significance  or  the  positive  quality  of  a nation,  is 
to  be  found,  in  the  first  place,  in  language.  As  a definite  ex- 
pression, as  a special  characteristic  of  universal  reason,  language 
unites  those  who  speak  some  one  particular  language  without 
separating  them,  however,  from  people  who  speak  another  language 
— for  all  languages  are  but  special  qualifications  of  the  all-embracing 
word  ; in  it  all  languages  are  commensurate  with  or  understandable 
by  one  another. 

The  multiplicity  of  languages  is  in  itself  something  as  positive 
and  normal  as  the  multiplicity  of  grammatical  elements  and  forms 
in  each  of  these  languages.  What  is  abnormal  is  mutual  lack  of 
understanding  and  the  alienation  that  follows  therefrom.  Accord- 
ing to  the  sacred  story  of  the  tower  of  Babel,  the  divine  punish- 
ment for,  and  at  the  same  time  the  natural  consequence  of  seeking 
external  and  godless  unity,  consists  in  the  loss  of  the  inner  unity 
and  solidarity  and  in  being  unable  to  understand  one  another’s 
speech  (which  is  possible  even  when  the  vocabulary  is  identical). 
Had  not  the  inner  moral  unity  been  lost,  the  difference  of  languages 
would  not  have  mattered  ; one  might  have  learnt  them,  and  there 
would  have  been  no  need  to  scatter  upon  the  face  of  the  earth. 
The  important  point  was  not  the  creation  of  new  languages,  but 
confusion  of  them.  “ Go  to,  let  us  go  down,  and  there  confound 
( nabla ) their  language  ( safatam),  that  they  may  not  understand  one 
another’s  speech.  So  the  Lord  scattered  them  abroad  from  thence 
upon  the  face  of  all  the  earth  ” (Gen.  xi.  7-9).  It  is  clear  that  the 
story  does  not  refer  to  the  origin  of  the  many  languages,  for  in 
order  that  they  might  be  confused  they  must  have  existed  already. 

The  profound  significance  of  this  remarkable  ancient  revela- 
tion can  be  fully  understood  only  by  comparing  the  book  of 
Genesis  with  the  New  Testament  book  of  the  Acts  of  the 
Apostles.  “And  when  the  day  of  Pentecost  was  fully  come, 
they  were  all  with  one  accord  in  one  place.  And  suddenly  there 
came  a sound  from  heaven,  as  of  a rushing  mighty  wind,  and  it 
filled  all  the  house  where  they  were  sitting.  And  there  appeared 
unto  them  cloven  tongues,  like  as  of  fire,  and  it  sat  upon  each  of 
them.  And  they  were  all  filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  began  to 
speak  with  other  tongues,  as  the  Spirit  gave  them  utterance.  And 
there  were  dwelling  at  Jerusalem  Jews,  devout  men,  out  of  every 


426  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

nation  under  heaven.  Now  when  this  was  noised  abroad,  the  multi- 
tude came  together,  and  were  confounded,  because  that  every  man 
heard  them  speak  in  his  own  language.  And  they  were  all 
amazed,  and  marvelled,  saying  one  to  another,  Behold,  are  not  all 
these  which  speak  Galilaeans  ? And  how  hear  we  every  man  in 
our  own  tongue,  wherein  we  were  born  ? Parthians,  and  Medes, 
and  Elamites,  and  the  dwellers  in  Mesopotamia,  and  in  Judaea, 
and  Cappadocia,  in  Pontus,  and  Asia,  Phrygia,  and  Pamphylia,  in 
Egypt,  and  in  the  parts  of  Libya  about  Cyrene,  and  strangers 
of  Rome,  Jews  and  proselytes,  Cretes  and  Arabians,  we  do  hear 
them  speak  in  our  tongues  the  wonderful  works  of  God”  (Acts 
ii.  i-ii). 

True  unity  does  not  annul  multiplicity  but  finds  its  realisa- 
tion in  it,  setting  it  free  from  the  limitations  of  exclusive- 
ness. One  language  inspired  by  the  Spirit  of  God  means  com- 
municability and  understanding  between  many  distinct  languages , 
which  are  divided  hut  do  not  divide.  This  is  not  the  idea  of  the 
inventors  and  adherents  of  various  Volapucs  and  Esperantos,  who 
consciously  or  unconsciously  imitate  the  builders  of  the  Tower  of 
Babel.1 

The  normal  relation  between  languages  is  at  the  same  time 
the  normal  relation  between  nations  (in  Slavonic  the  two  concep- 
tions are  expressed  by  the  same  word).  The  true  unity  of 
languages  is  found  not  in  a single  language  but  in  an  all-embracing 
language,  that  is  in  an  interpenetration  of  all  languages  which 
would  make  them  equally  understandable  to  all  while  the  peculiarity 
of  each  would  be  preserved.  Similarly  the  true  unity  of  nations 
does  not  mean  a single  nationality,  but  an  all-embracing  nationality, 
that  is,  interaction  and  solidarity  of  all  nations  for  the  sake  of 
each  having  an  independent  and  full  life  of  its  own. 

VII 

When,  having  learnt  a new  language,  we  understand  a 
foreigner  whose  language  it  is,  when  we  not  only  understand  the 
meaning  of  words  he  speaks  but  by  means  of  them  enter  into  a 

1 The  inner  relation  and  contrast  between  the  confusion  of  Babel  and  the  meeting 
of  the  Apostles  in  Sion,  as  the  violation  and  the  restitution  of  the  norm,  are  clearly 
indicated  in  the  Church  anthems  sung  at  Pentecost. 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  427 

real  communion  of  feelings,  thoughts,  and  aspirations  with  him, 
we  clearly  prove  thereby  that  true  unity  of  men  is  not  limited  to 
persons  belonging  to  the  same  people.  It  is  impossible  to  deny 
the  fact  of  this  inter -lingual  and  international  and  therefore 
universally-human  communion,  but  it  may  be  maintained  that 
the  communion  is  purely  a superficial  relation  based  upon  no  real 
unity.  This,  contention  is  often  urged  by  those  who  maintain 
that  although  a nation  is  a real  whole,  humanity  is  purely  a 
general  idea,  abstracted  from  the  fact  of  interaction  between 
separate  nations  essentially  external  to  one  another.  Leaving  it 
to  metaphysics  to  decide  to  what  extent  all  interaction  involves 
an  underlying  unity  of  those  that  interact,  I will  only  note  here 
that  the  peculiarity  of  the  particular  interaction  which  obtains 
between  different  nations  or  between  individuals  belonging  to 
different  nations,  presupposes,  apart  from  all  metaphysics,  at  least 
the  same  kind  of  real  unity  which  is  assumed  to  hold  within  each 
nation  between  the  groups  and  individual  persons  who  compose  it. 

What  ground  is  there  for  regarding  nationality  as  a real 
power  and  a nation  as  a real  unit  rather  than  a mere  conglomera- 
tion of  human  entities  ? With  regard  to  the  family  the  question 
is  answered  by  pointing  out  the  evident  physical  bond.  With 
regard  to  the  nation  three  grounds  are  indicated. 

1.  The  supposed  physical  bond , or  the  unity  of  descent. — This 
supposition , however,  has  equal  and,  indeed,  far  greater  force  in 
reference  to  humanity  as  a whole  than  to  distinct  nations.  The 
original  unity  of  mankind  is  a dogma  of  three  monotheistic 
religions  and  the  prevailing  opinion  of  philosophers  and  naturalists 
— while  a direct  unity  of  physical  descent  within  the  limits  of  a 
nation  is,  in  the  vast  majority  of  cases,  obvious  fiction. 

2.  Language. — Identity  of  language  unites  those  who  speak 
it,  but  we  know  that  difference  of  language  does  not  prevent  men 
from  being  of  the  same  mind,  thinking  the  same  thoughts,  and 
even  using  the  same  words.  For  such  difference  does  not  abolish 
but  makes  manifest  the  one  inner  language  undoubtedly  common 
to  all  men,  who  can  under  certain  conditions  understand  each 
other  whatever  their  particular  tongue  may  be.  This  is  not  a 
superficial  result  of  external  interaction,  for  that  which  is  here 
mutually  understood  refers  not  merely  to  accidental  objects  but 
embraces  the  inmost  contents  of  the  human  soul.  This  funda- 


428  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

mental  and  profoundly  real  fact  expresses  the  actual  connection  and 
unity  of  all  men.  Difference  of  tongue  is  the  difference  between 
the  essential  forms  of  the  mental  life,  and  is  important,  since  every 
such  form  represents  a particular  quality  of  the  soul.  Yet  still 
more  important  is  the  content  which  each  form  expresses  in 
its  own  way  and  which  though  present  in  all  is  not  exhausted  by, 
nor  is  exclusive  of,  any.  That  content  is  the  positive  and  in- 
dependent principle  of  the  hidden  unity  and  of  the  visible  unifica- 
tion of  all. 

Language  is  the  deepest  and  most  fundamental  expression  of 
character.  But  just  as  differences  of  individual  character  do  not 
destroy  the  unity  of  the  nation  which  includes  all  the  different 
people,  so  differences  of  national  character  cannot  destroy  the  real 
unity  of  all  nations  in  humanity,  which  is  also  a ‘character.’ 

3.  History. — If  national  history  is  the  basis  of  national  unity, 
universal  or  world-history  is  the  basis  of  a wider,  but  not  less 
stable,  all-human  unity.  Moreover,  national  history  is  altogether 
unthinkable  except  as  an  inseparable  part  of  world-history.  Try 
to  think  of  Russian  history  from  the  exclusively  national  point 
of  view.  Even  if  the  Scandinavian  origin  of  our  state  could 
somehow  be  explained  away,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  intro- 
duction of  Christianity  into  Russia  by  the  Greeks  at  once 
brought  our  nation  into  the  sphere  of  the  supernational  life  of 
the  world.  Christianity  as  such  or  in  its  content  is  an  absolute 
truth  and  is  therefore  superhuman,  and  not  merely  supernational. 
Even  from  the  purely  historical  point  of  view,  however,  it  cannot 
be  traced  to  any  one  particular  nationality.  It  is  impossible  to 
separate  the  Jewish  nucleus  from  the  Chaldean  and  Persian, 
Egyptian  and  Phoenician,  Greek  and  Roman  setting.  And  yet 
without  this  national  nucleus  and  this  national  setting  there 
could  have  been  no  Christianity  as  positive  revelation,  and  the 
foundation  for  the  world-wide  Kingdom  of  God  would  not  have 
been  laid.  But  whatever  the  significance  of  the  national  elements 
in  the  historical  formation  of  the  world  religion  may  be,  new 
nations  such  as  Russia,  which  appeared  after  Christianity  became 
established  and  accepted  it  in  its  crystallised  form  as  the  final 
revelation  of  the  supreme  and  absolute  good,  cannot  look  to  them- 
selves for  the  true  source  of  their  life.  Their  history  can  only  have 
meaning  as  a more  or  less  perfect  acquisition  of  the  given,  as 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  429 

a more  or  less  successful  preparation  for  fulfilling  the  task 
Christianity  had  put  before  them.  It  is  obvious  that  during  such 
a preparatory  process  not  a single  Christian  nation  can  or  ought 
to  be  separate  from,  alien  or  hostile  to  other  nations,  for  such  a 
relation  is  opposed  to  the  very  essence  of  Christianity — and  it 
is  impossible  to  prepare  for  carrying  out  a given  task  while 
remaining  in  direct  opposition  to  its  inner  meaning.  Russia 
definitely  confirmed  her  faith  in  Christian  universalism  when  in 
the  most  glorious  and  important  epoch  of  her  new  history  she 
finally  abandoned  her  national  isolation  and  showed  herself  to  be 
a living  member  of  the  international  whole.  And  it  was  not  till 
then  that  the  national  strength  of  Russia  found  expression  in  what 
is  still  the  most  significant  and  precious  thing  we  have — and  not 
for  ourselves  only,  but  for  other  nations  as  well.  On  the  powerful 
stem  of  the  state,  ‘ Europeanised  ’ by  Peter,  grew  the  beautiful 
flower  of  our  pensive,  deep,  and  tender  poetry.  Russian  uni- 
versalism — which  resembles  cosmopolitanism  as  little  as  the 
language  of  the  Apostles  resembles  Volapuc — is  connected  with 
the  names  of  Peter  the  Great  and  Pushkin.  What  other  national 
Russian  names  can  be  said  to  equal  these  ? 

Just  as  the  individual  man  finds  the  meaning  of  his  personal 
existence  through  the  family,  through  his  connection  with  his 
ancestors  and  posterity,  just  as  the  family  has  an  abiding  living 
content  in  the  nation  and  national  tradition,  so  the  nation  lives, 
moves,  and  has  its  being  only  in  a supernational  and  an  inter- 
national environment.  Just  as  the  whole  series  of  successive 
generations  live  in  and  through  the  individual  man,  just  as  the 
whole  nation  lives  and  acts  in  and  through  the  totality  of  these 
series,  so  the  whole  humanity  lives  and  works  out  its  history  in  the 
totality  of  nations. 

If  nation  be  a real  fact  and  not  an  abstract  general  idea,  if  the 
inward  organic  nature  of  the  bond  which  unites  nations  with  one 
another  in  the  universal  history  be  a fact  also,  humanity  as  a whole, 
too,  must  be  recognised  as  a fact.  Real  living  organs  can  only  be 
organs  of  a real  living  organism,  and  not  of  an  abstract  idea.  The 
absolute  moral  solidarity  in  the  good,  uniting  man  with  his 
ancestors  and  his  descendants,  and  thus  forming  the  normal  family, 
also  unites  him,  by  means  of  this  elementary  and  immediate  bond  of 
liberation,  to  the  world-whole  concentrated  inhumanity.  Humanity 


430  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

is  the  complete  collective  subject  or  ‘recipient’  of  the  perfect 
good,  the  full  image  and  likeness  of  the  Deity,  the  bearer  of  the 
actual  moral  order — the  Kingdom  of  God.  But,  as  has  already 
been  said,  it  follows  from  the  very  nature  of  the  moral  order  or 
the  moral  organisation  that  every  part  or  every  member  of 
the  great  collective  man  participates  in  the  absolute  complete- 
ness of  the  whole,  since  he  is  as  necessary  to  that  complete- 
ness as  it  is  to  him.  The  moral  bond  is  perfectly  mutual. 
Humanity  is  unthinkable  apart  from  the  nations  that  compose  it, 
the  nation  is  unthinkable  apart  from  families  and  the  family  apart 
from  individuals,  and,  vice  versa , the  individual  cannot  exist,  either 
physically  or  morally,  apart  from  the  succession  of  generations,  the 
moral  life  of  the  family  is  impossible  apart  from  the  nation,  and  the 
life  of  the  nation  is  impossible  apart  from  humanity.  This  truism 
used  to  be  readily  accepted  by  all.  Recently,  however,  for  reasons 
which  the  existing  systems  of  the  philosophy  of  history  have  not  yet 
been  able  to  discover,  it  has  become  customary  to  separate,  contrary 
to  all  logic,  this  elementary  truth  from  its  necessary  apex,  and  to 
declare  that  the  inner  dependence  of  nations  upon  humanity  is  a 
fancy  and  a chimera.  It  is  granted  that  a bad  son  and  a bad  father, 
a man  who  has  no  reverence  for  his  ancestors  and  does  not  care  about 
the  upbringing  of  his  descendants  (whether  physical  or  spiritual), 
cannot  be  a good  patriot,  and  that  a bad  patriot  cannot  truly  serve 
the  common  good.  It  is  also  granted  that,  vice  versa , a bad 
patriot  cannot  be  a good  member  of  a family,  and  that  a bad  member 
of  a family  cannot  be  a really  good  man.  But  it  is  not  allowed 
that  in  virtue  of  the  same  solidarity  between  the  different  degrees 
of  organisation  a man  indifferent  to  the  one  supreme  good  of  all 
nations  taken  together  cannot  be  a really  good  patriot  (and  con- 
sequently cannot  be  a good  member  of  a family,  and,  finally,  cannot 
be  individually  good).  And  yet  it  is  perfectly  clear  that  if  a man  has 
for  his  supreme  purpose  the  good  of  his  own  nation,  taken  separ- 
ately and  independently  of  others,  he  in  the  first  place  deprives  the 
highest  good  of  its  essential  characteristic  of  universality,  and 
therefore  distorts  the  purpose  itself.  Secondly,  in  dividing  the 
interest  of  one  nation  from  the  interests  of  the  others,  while  in 
reality  they  are  intimately  connected,  he  distorts  the  idea  of  his 
own  nation.  Thirdly,  it  follows  from  this  double  distortion  that 
such  a man  can  only  be  serving  a distorted  nation  by  communi- 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  431 

eating  to  it  a distorted  good — that  is,  he  can  only  be  serving  evil, 
and,  since  he  does  nothing  but  harm  to  his  fatherland,  he  must  be 
pronounced  a bad  patriot. 

The  good  embraces  all  the  details  of  life,  but  in  itself  it  is 
indivisible.  Patriotism  as  a virtue  is  part  of  the  right  atti- 
tude to  everything,  and  in  the  moral  order  this  part  cannot  be 
separated  from  the  whole  and  opposed  to  it.  In  the  moral  organisa- 
tion not  a single  nation  can  prosper  at  the  expense  of  others  ; it 
cannot  positively  affirm  itself  to  the  detriment  or  the  disadvantage 
of  others.  Just  as  the  positive  moral  dignity  of  a private  person  is 
known  from  the  fact  that  his  prosperity  is  truly  useful  to  all  others, 
so  the  prosperity  of  a nation  true  to  the  moral  principle  is  neces- 
sarily connected  with  the  universal  good.  This  logical  and  moral 
axiom  is  crudely  distorted  in  the  popular  sophism  that  we  must 
think  of  our  own  nation  only,  because  it  is  good,  and  therefore  its 
prosperity  is  a benefit  to  every  one.  It  either  thoughtlessly  over- 
looks or  impudently  rejects  the  obvious  truth  that  this  very  aliena- 
tion of  one’s  own  nation  from  others,  this  exclusive  recognition  of 
it  as  pre-eminently  good,  is  in  itself  evil,  and  that  nothing  but  evil 
can  spring  from  this  evil  root.  It  must  be  one  or  the  other. 
Either  we  must  renounce  Christianity  and  monotheism  in  general, 
according  to  which  “ there  is  none  good  but  one,  that  is,  God,” 
and  recognise  our  nation  as  such  to  be  the  highest  good — that  is, 
put  it  in  the  place  of  God — or  we  must  admit  that  a people 
becomes  good  not  in  virtue  of  the  simple  fact  of  its  particular 
nationality,  but  only  in  so  far  as  it  conforms  to  and  participates  in 
the  absolute  good.  And  it  can  only  do  so  if  it  has  a right  attitude 
to  everything,  and,  in  the  first  place,  to  other  nations.  A nation 
cannot  be  really  good  so  long  as  it  feels  malice  or  hostility  against 
other  nations,  and  fails  to  recognise  them  as  its  neighbours  and  to 
love  them  as  itself. 

The  moral  duty  of  a true  patriot  is  then  to  serve  the  nation  in 
the  good,  or  to  serve  the  true  good  of  a nation,  inseparable  from 
the  good  of  all,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  to  serve  the  nation  in 
humanity , and  humanity  in  the  nation.  Such  a patriot  will  discover 
a positive  aspect  in  every  foreign  race  and  people,  and  by  means 
of  it  will  seek  to  relate  this  race  or  people  with  his  own  for  the 
benefit  of  both. 

When  we  hear  of  a rapprochement  between  nations,  of  inter- 


432  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

national  agreements,  friendships,  and  alliances,  we  must,  before 
rejoicing  or  being  grieved  about  it,  know  in  what  it  is  that  the 
nations  are  being  united,  in  good  or  in  evil.  The  fact  of  union 
as  such  decides  nothing.  If  two  private  people  or  two  nations  are 
united  by  the  hatred  of  a third,  their  union  is  an  evil  and  a source  of 
fresh  evil.  If  they  are  united  by  mutual  interest  or  by  common  gain, 
the  question  still  remains  open.  The  interest  may  be  unworthy, 
the  gain  may  be  fictitious,  and  in  that  case  the  union  of  nations, 
as  well  as  of  individuals,  even  if  it  is  not  a direct  evil,  can  certainly 
not  be  a good  desirable  for  its  own  sake.  The  union  of  men  and 
nations  can  be  positively  approved  only  in  so  far  as  it  furthers  the 
moral  organisation  of  humanity,  or  the  organisation  of  the  absolute 
good  in  it.  We  have  seen  that  the  ultimate  subject  of  this 
organisation,  the  real  bearer  of  the  moral  order , is  the  collective 
man  or  humanity,  successively  differentiated  into  its  organs  and 
elements — nations,  families,  persons.  Having  determined  who  it 
is  that  is  morally  organised,  we  must  decide  what  he  is  organised 
in — that  is,  must  consider  the  question  as  to  the  universal  forms  of 
the  moral  order. 


VIII 

The  right  or  the  due  relation  of  man  to  the  higher  world,  to 
other  men,  and  to  the  lower  nature  is  collectively  organised  in 
the  forms  of  the  Church,  the  state,  and  the  economic  society  or 
the  zemstvo. 

Individual  religious  feeling  finds  its  objective  development  and 
realisation  in  the  universal  Church,  which  thus  may  be  said  to  be 

organised  piety. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  religious  morality,  man  lives  in 
three  different  spheres  : the  worldly  or  the  conditional  (this  world), 
the  Divine  or  the  unconditional  (the  Kingdom  of  God),  and  the 
sphere  which  is  intermediary  between  the  two,  and  binds  them 
together — the  religious  sphere  in  the  strict  sense  (the  Church). 

To  stop  at  a direct  opposition  between  the  world  and  the 
Deity,  between  earth  and  heaven,  is  contrary  to  sound  religious 
feeling.  Even  supposing  that  we  are  genuinely  prepared  to 
regard  the  universe  as  worthless  dust,  that  dust  does  not  fear 
our  contempt — it  remains.  On  whom  or  what  ? To  say  that  it 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  433 

remains  on  the  Deity  would  obviously  be  impious.  To  declare 
the  world  dust  to  be  an  illusion  of  our  imagination  would  mean 
that  our  own  self,  enslaved  by  the  weary  nightmare  of  phenomena 
and  powerless  before  the  phantoms  it  has  created,  is  itself  a worth- 
less speck  of  dust  which  has  somehow  got  into  the  eye  of  eternity 
and  hopelessly  mars  its  purity  ; and  this  second  view  would  be 
still  more  impious  than  the  first.  Everything  in  the  long  run 
must  be  referred  to  God,  and,  therefore,  the  more  contempt 
we  have  for  the  world,  the  more  unworthy  is  our  conception  of 
the  Absolute  being.  To  declare  that  the  world  is  pure  nothing 
is  the  height  of  blasphemy,  since  in  that  case  all  the  evil  aspects 
of  existence,  which  are  not  abolished  by  a verbal  rejection  of  them, 
must  be  directly  and  immediately  ascribed  to  God.  This  argu- 
ment cannot  be  avoided  so  long  as  only  two  opposing  terms  are 
recognised.  But  there  exists  a third  intermediary  term,  the 
historical  environment  in  and  through  which  the  worthless  dust 
of  the  earth  is  converted,  by  a skilful  system  of  fertilisation,  into 
a fruitful  ground  for  the  future  Kingdom  of  God. 

Sound  religious  feeling  demands  not  that  we  should  reject  the 
world  and  seek  to  abolish  it,  but  only  that  we  should  not  accept 
the  world  as  an  absolutely  independent  principle  of  our  life. 
Being  in  the  world  we  must  become  not  of  the  world,  and  in  this 
capacity  influence  the  world  so  that  it  too  should  cease  to  be  on 
its  own  account  and  become  more  and  more  from  God. 

The  essence  of  piety  at  the  highest  stage  of  universal  con- 
sciousness consists  in  ascribing  absolute  worth  to  God  alone  and 
in  valuing  all  else  only  as  related  to  Him  and  as  capable  of  having 
absolute  worth  not  in  itself  and  of  itself,  but  in  and  through  God. 
Everything  acquires  worth  through  the  fixing  of  its  positive  relationship 
with  the  one  worthiness. 

If  all  men  and  nations  were  truly  pious,  that  is,  identified 
their  own  good  with  the  one  absolute  good  and  blessedness,  that 
is,  God,  they  would  obviously  be  united  among  themselves.  And 
being  at  one  in  God,  they  would  live  in  God’s  way  ; their  unity 
would  be  holiness.  The  present  humanity,  however,  which  is 
not  brought  together  and  elevated  by  the  one  exclusive  interest 
in  God,  is  following  its  own  will,  and  is  divided  between  a 
multitude  of  relative  and  disconnected  interests.  The  result  is 
alienation  and  disruption  ; and  since  good  actions  cannot  spring 


434  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

from  an  evil  root,  the  activity  of  divided  humanity  can  as  such 
lead  to  nothing  but  sin.  Therefore  the  moral  organisation 
of  humanity  cannot  begin  until  mankind  is  really  united  and  its 
activity  is  consecrated. 

Perfect  unity  and  holiness  is  in  God,  sin  and  division  in  the 
worldly  humanity,  union  and  consecration  in  the  Church  which 
harmonises  and  reconciles  the  divided  and  sinful  world  with  God. 
But  in  order  to  unite  and  consecrate,  the  Church  must  itself  be  one 
and  holy,  that  is,  it  must  have  its  foundation  in  God,  independently 
of  the  divided  and  sinful  men  who  are  in  need  of  union  and  consecra- 
tion, and  therefore  cannot  obtain  it  of  themselves.  The  Church , 
then , is  in  its  essence  the  unity  and  holiness  of  the  Godhead , not,  how- 
ever, of  the  Godhead  as  such,  but  as  abiding  and  acting  in  the  world. 
It  is  the  Godhead  in  its  other , the  true  substance  of  God-in-man. 
The  unity  and  the  holiness  of  the  Church  are  expressed  in  space 
as  its  universality  or  catholicity , and  in  time  as  apostolic  succession. 
The  meaning  of  catholicity  ( ko.0 ’ o'Aov  — according  to  or  in 
conformity  with  the  whole)  is  that  all  the  forms  and  activities 
of  the  Church  unite  individuals  and  nations  with  the  whole  of 
the  divine  humanity,  both  in  its  individual  concentration  the 
Christ,  and  in  its  comprehensive  form — the  world  of  the  incor- 
poreal powers  and  the  departed  saints  living  in  God,  and  of  the 
faithful  who  are  still  fighting  the  battle  here  on  earth.  In  so  far 
as  everything  in  the  Church  is  catholic,  conformable  to  the  absolute 
whole,  all  exclusiveness  of  racial  and  personal  characteristics  and 
of  social  position  disappear  in  it.  All  divisions  or  separations  dis- 
appear, and  all  the  differences  are  left — for  piety  requires  that  unity 
in  God  should  be  understood  not  as  empty  indifference  and  bare 
uniformity,  but  as  the  absolute  fulness  of  every  life.  There  is 
no  division  but  there  is  difference  between  the  invisible  and  the 
visible  Church,  since  the  first  is  the  hidden  moving  power  of  the 
second,  and  the  second  the  growing  realisation  of  the  first.  The 
two  are  one  in  essence  but  different  in  condition.  There  is  no 
division  but  there  is  difference  in  the  visible  Church  between 
the  many  tribes  and  nations  to  which,  in  their  unity,  the  one  spirit 
speaks  in  different  tongues  of  the  one  identical  truth,  and  com- 
municates by  different  gifts  and  callings  one  and  the  same  good. 
Finally,  there  is  no  division  but  there  is  difference  between  the 
Church  as  teaching  and  as  taught,  between  the  clergy  and  the 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  435 

people,  between  the  mind  and  the  body  of  the  Church.  In  a 
similar  manner  the  difference  between  husband  and  wife  is  not 
an  obstacle  to,  but  the  basis  of,  their  perfect  union. 

IX 

The  catholicity  of  the  Church — the  fundamental  form  of  the 
moral  organisation  of  humanity — is  the  conscious  and  intentional 
unity  between  all  the  members  of  the  universal  body  in  relation 
to  the  one  absolute  purpose  of  existence,  a unity,  accompanied  by 
complete  division  of  c spiritual  labour,’  of  gifts  and  services,  by 
which  that  purpose  is  expressed  and  realised.  This  moral  unity 
essentially  differs  by  its  voluntary  and  conscious  character  from 
the  natural  unity  of  the  organs  in  the  body  or  the  members  in 
the  various  natural  groups.  It  forms  a true  brotherhood  which 
gives  to  man  positive  freedom  and  positive  equality.  The  individual 
does  not  enjoy  true  freedom  when  his  social  environment  weighs 
upon  him  as  external  and  alien  to  him.  Such  alienation  is  abol- 
ished by  the  conception  of  the  universal  Church  alone,  according 
to  which  each  must  find  in  the  social  whole  not  the  external 
limit  but  the  inward  completion  of  his  liberty.  Man  in  any  case 
stands  in  need  of  such  completion  by  his  c other  ’ ; for  in  virtue 
of  his  natural  limitations  he  is  necessarily  a dependent  being,  and 
cannot  by  himself  or  alone  be  a sufficient  ground  of  his  own 
existence.  Deprive  man  of  what  he  owes  to  others,  beginning 
with  his  parents  and  ending  with  the  state  and  the  world-history, 
and  nothing  will  be  left  of  his  existence,  let  alone  his  freedom. 
It  would  be  madness  to  deny  this  fact  of  inevitable  dependence. 
Man  is  not  strong  enough  and  he  needs  help  in  order  that  his 
freedom  might  be  a real  thing  and  not  merely  a verbal  claim. 
But  the  help  which  man  obtains  from  the  world  is  accidental, 
temporal,  and  partial,  whilst  the  universal  Church  promises  him 
secure,  eternal  and  all-sufficient  help  from  God.  It  is  with  that 
help  alone  that  he  can  be  actually  free,  that  is,  have  sufficient 
power  to  satisfy  his  will.  Man  obviously  cannot  be  truly  free  so 
long  as  that  which  he  does  not  want  is  inevitable,  and  that  which 
is  demanded  by  his  will  is  impossible.  Every  object  of  desire, 
every  good  is  only  possible  for  man  on  condition  that  he  himself 
lives,  and  those  whom  he  loves  live  also.  There  is  therefore  one 


436  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

fundamental  object  of  desire — the  continuation  of  life,  and  one 
fundamental  object  of  aversion — death.  But  it  is  precisely  in  the 
face  of  this  that  all  worldly  help  proves  to  be  of  no  avail.  The 
calamity  of  calamities  — death  — proves  to  be  inevitable;  and 
the  good  of  goods — immortality — utterly  impossible.  The  world 
then  can  give  no  real  freedom  to  man.  It  is  only  God-in- 
man, or  the  Church,  based  upon  an  inner  unity  and  a perfect 
harmony  of  the  visible  and  the  invisible  life  in  the  kingdom  of 
God — the  Church  affirming  the  essential  primacy  of  spirit  and 
promising  the  final  resurrection  of  the  flesh,  that  alone  discloses 
to  man  the  sphere  in  which  his  freedom  can  find  positive  realisa- 
tion, and  his  will — actual  satisfaction.  Whether  we  believe  this 
or  not  does  not  depend  upon  philosophical  arguments.  But 
although  the  most  perfect  philosophy  can  neither  give  faith  nor 
take  it  away,  the  simplest  art  of  logical  reflection  is  sufficient  to 
show  that  man  who  wants  to  live  and  is  sentenced  to  death  cannot 
be  seriously  regarded  as  free,  and  from  the  standpoint  of  the 
world  or  of  nature  this  no  doubt  is  the  position  of  every  man 
and  of  all  mankind.  It  is  then  through  the  universal  Church 
alone  that  the  individual  can  obtain  positive  freedom.  In  no 
other  way  is  positive  equality  possible  for  him  either. 

The  natural  dissimilarity  of  people  is  as  inevitable  as  it  is 
desirable.  It  would  be  very  regrettable  if  all  men  were  spiritually 
and  physically  alike,  and  in  that  case  the  multiplicity  of  men 
would  have  no  meaning.  Direct  equality  between  distinct  parti- 
cular men  is  altogether  impossible.  They  can  be  equal  not  in 
themselves,  but  only  in  their  common  relationship  to  something 
other,  supreme  and  universal.  Such  is  the  equality  of  all  before 
the  law,  or  equal  civic  rights.  This  equality  of  rights,  important 
as  it  is  in  the  order  of  worldly  existence,  remains  essentially  formal 
and  negative.  The  law  fixes  certain  general  limits  to  human 
activity,  equally  binding  upon  all  and  each,  but  it  does  not  form  the 
content  of  any  one’s  life,  secures  to  no  one  the  essential  goods  of 
life,  and  indifferently  leaves  to  some  their  helpless  nothingness,  and 
to  others  the  superabundance  of  all  possible  advantages.  The  world 
may  recognise  as  an  abstract  possibility  or  a theoretical  right  the 
unconditional  significance  of  each  human  being,  but  the  realisation 
of  this  possibility  and  this  right  is  given  by  the  Church  alone.  It 
initiates  each  into  the  wholeness  of  the  Divine  life  made  manifest 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  437 

in  man,  communicates  to  each  the  absolute  content  of  life,  and  thus 
equalises  all — in  the  way  similar  to  that  in  which  all  finite  magni- 
tudes are  equal  to  one  another  in  relation  to  infinity.  If  in  Christ 
“dwelleth  all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily”  in  the  words  of  the 
Apostle,  and  Christ  lives  in  every  believer,  there  can  be  no  room 
for  inequality.  Participation  in  the  absolute  content  of  life  through 
the  universal  Church,  liberating  and  equalising  all  in  a positive 
way,  makes  of  them  one  absolute  whole  or  a perfect  brotherhood. 

In  so  far,  however,  as  this  brotherhood,  perfect  in  nature, 
is  conditioned  in  origin,  as  established  and  matured  in  time,  it 
requires  a corresponding  expression  for  its  connection  with  God- 
in-man  throughout  the  ages — it  requires  religious  succession  or 
spiritual  parentage.  This  demand  is  satisfied  by  the  definition  of 
the  Church  as  apostolic. 


X 

Since  we  live  in  time,  the  bond  of  our  dependence  upon  the 
divine  principle  as  manifested  in  history  must  also  be  preserved  in 
time  and  handed  down  through  it.  In  virtue  of  that  bond  our 
present  spiritual  life  begins  not  of  itself  but  springs  from  the  earlier 
or  older  bearers  of  the  grace  of  God.  The  one  holy  catholic  Church 
is  of  necessity  an  apostolic  Church.  Apostleship  or  messengership 
is  the  opposite  of  imposture.  Messengership  is  a religious  basis  of 
activity  and  imposture — an  anti-religious  one.  It  is  precisely  with 
reference  to  this  point  that  Christ  indicates  the  opposition  between 
Himself  and  the  antichrist.  “I  am  come  in  My  Father’s  name 
and  ye  receive  Me  not ; if  another  shall  come  in  his  own  name , 
him  ye  will  receive.”  The  primitive  basis  of  religion,  namely,  the 
pious  recognition  of  one’s  dependence  upon  the  progenitor,  attains 
its  perfect  expression  in  Christianity.  “The  Father  sent  Me.” 
“ I do  the  will  of  Him  Who  sent  me.”  The  only-begotten  Son  is 
pre-eminently  a messenger,  is  essentially  the  apostle  of  God,  and, 
strictly  speaking,  the  profound  and  eternal  meaning  of  calling  the 
Church  ‘apostolic’  refers  to  Him — and  the  other,  the  direct  his- 
torical meaning,  depends  upon  that.  “As  My  Father  has  sent 
Me,  even  so  send  I you  ” — the  apostles  born  of  Christ  by  the 
word  and  the  spirit  are  sent  by  Him  to  give  spiritual  birth  to  new 
generations  so  that  the  eternal  bond  between  the  Father  and  the 


438  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

Son,  the  One  Who  sends  and  the  One  Who  is  sent,  should  be 
continually  handed  down  through  time. 

Filial  relationship  is  the  archetype  of  piety , and  the  only-begotten 
Son  of  God — the  Son  by  pre-eminence — is  the  individual  embodi- 
ment of  piety  itself.  The  Church  as  the  collective  organisation  of 
piety  must  be  entirely  determined  by  Him  in  its  social  structure, 
in  its  doctrine  and  holy  practices.  Christ  as  the  incarnation  of 
piety  is  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life  of  His  Church. 

The  way  of  piety  for  all  that  exists  (with  the  exception,  of 
course,  of  the  First  Beginning  and  the  First  Object  of  all  piety) 
consists  in  starting  not  with  oneself  or  with  what  is  lower,  but 
with  the  higher,  the  senior,  the  preceding.  It  is  the  way  of 
hierarchy,  of  holy  succession  and  tradition.  Therefore  whatever 
external  forms  the  order  of  the  Church  government  might  assume 
under  the  influence  of  historical  conditions,  the  strictly  ecclesiastical 
religious  form — ordination  through  the  laying  on  of  hands — always 
proceeds  in  the  hierarchical  order,  from  above  downwards.  Lay- 
men may  not  ordain  their  spiritual  fathers,  and  indeed  the  clergy 
themselves  must  necessarily  be  arranged  in  order  of  degrees  so 
that  those  of  the  highest  degree — the  bishops — alone  represent  the 
active  principle  itself,  and  transfer  the  grace  of  consecration  to  the 
two  other  orders. 

The  truth  of  the  Church  depends  upon  the  same  piety,  though 
in  another  way,  or  in  another,  theoretic  respect.  The  truth  of  the 
Church,  revealing  to  us  the  mind  of  Christ,  is  neither  scientific 
nor  philosophical,  nor  even  theological — it  contains  nothing  but 
dogmas  of  piety.  This  fact  is  the  key  to  the  understanding  of 
Christian  dogmatism,  and  of  the  Councils  that  were  engaged  in 
formulating  it.  With  regard  to  religious  teaching  the  interest 
of  piety  is  obviously  concerned  with  the  fact  that  our  conceptions 
of  the  Deity  should  not  in  any  way  detract  from  the  fulness  of  our 
religious  attitude  to  it,  given  once  for  all  in  Christ  as  the  Son  of 
God  and  the  Son  of  Man.  All  ‘ heresies  ’ from  which  the  Church 
protected  itself  by  its  dogmatic  definitions  denied,  in  one  way  or 
another,  this  religious  fulness  or  the  entirety  and  completeness  of 
our  adoption  by  God  through  the  perfect  God-man.  Some  re- 
garded Christ  as  a half-god,  others  as  a half-man  ; some  put 
a kind  of  double  personality  in  the  place  of  the  one  God-man, 
others  limited  His  nature  as  God -man  to  the  intelligible  side 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  439 

alone,  and  regarded  the  divinity  as  incapable  of  sensible  expres- 
sion, etc.1 

The  lawful  way  of  the  hierarchical  order,  as  well  as  the  truth 
of  faith,  finds  its  fulfilment  and  justification  in  the  life  of  the 
Church.  Human  life  must  be  inwardly  collected,  united,  and 
consecrated  by  the  action  of  God  and  thus  transformed  into  a 
divinely-human  life.  The  nature  of  the  case  and  the  principle  of 
piety  demand  that  the  process  of  regeneration  should  begin  from 
above,  from  God,  that  it  should  be  founded  upon  the  effects  of 
grace  and  not  upon  the  natural  human  will  alone — it  demands 
that  the  process  should  be  divinely-human  and  not  humanly- 
divine.  This  is  the  meaning  of  sacraments  as  the  special  founda- 
tion of  the  new  life.  The  moral  significance  of  sacraments  in 
general  consists,  from  the  point  of  view  of  religious  morality  or 
piety,  precisely  in  this — that  in  sacraments  man  adopts  his  proper 
attitude  of  absolute  dependence  upon  a perfectly  real  and  yet  per- 
fectly mysterious,  sensuously  unknowable  good  which  is  given  to 
him  and  not  created  by  him.  In  the  presence  of  the  sacrament 
the  human  will  renounces  all  that  is  its  own , remains  in  a state  of 
perfect  potentiality  or  purity,  and  in  virtue  of  it  becomes  capable, 
as  pure  form,  of  receiving  superhuman  content.  Through  sacra- 
ments the  one  and  holy  essence,  which  is  the  Church  in  itself  (the 
Ding  an  sich  or  the  noumenon  of  the  Church,  to  use  philosophic 
language),  actually  unites  to  itself  or  absorbs  into  itself  the  inner 
being  of  man  and  renders  his  life  divine. 

This  life,  supernatural  so  far  as  the  other  kingdoms  of  nature, 
including  the  rationally-human,  are  concerned,  but  perfectly  natural 
for  the  kingdom  of  God,  has  its  regular  cycle  of  development,  the 
chief  moments  of  which  are  signalised  by  the  Church  in  the  seven 
sacraments  especially  so  called.  This  life  comes  to  birth  (in  baptism), 
receives  the  beginning  of  a right  organisation  and  the  power  to 
grow  and  develop  (in  confirmation),  is  healed  from  accidental  im- 
perfections (in  penitence),  nurtured  for  eternity  (in  Eucharist)  5 it 

1 The  profound  and  important  significance  of  the  dogmatic  disputes  dealing  with  the 
very  essence  of  the  Christian  religion  or  piety  I have  more  definitely  indicated  else- 
where. See,  e.g.,  Veliki  spor  i christianskaya  politika  {The  Great  Dispute  and  Christian 
Policy)  (1883),  Dogmatitcheskoe  raavitie  tserkvi  {The  Dogmatic  Development  of  the  Church) 
(1886),  La  Russie  et  I’Eglise  universelle  (1889).  This  significance  is  particularly  clear 
in  the  dispute  concerning  the  ikons  which  in  the  Christian  East  completed  the  circle  of 
the  dogmatic  development. 


440  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

completes  or  integrates  the  individual  being  of  man  (in  marriage), 
creates  spiritual  fatherland  as  the  basis  of  the  true  social  order 
(in  ordination),  and,  finally  (in  extreme  unction),  sanctifies  the 
diseased  and  dying  bodily  nature  for  the  perfect  wholeness  of 
future  resurrection.1 


XI 

The  real  and  mysterious  tokens  of  the  higher  life  or  the 
Kingdom  of  God,  received  in  the  sacraments  of  the  Church,  do 
not  in  their  origin  and  their  essence  depend  upon  the  will  of  man. 
But  since  this  higher  life  is  the  divinely-human  life , our  part  in  it 
cannot  be  merely  passive.  It  demands  a conscious  and  voluntary 
co-operation  of  the  human  soul  with  the  supreme  Spirit.  The 
positive  strength  for  such  co-operation  is  from  the  very  first  given 
by  the  grace  of  God  (disregard  of  this  truth  leads  to  the  dangerous 
errors  of  semi-Pelagianism),  but  it  is  received  by  the  will  of  man, 
which  formally  differs  from  the  divine  will ; and  it  is  manifested 
in  actions  which  spring  from  the  human  will.  Disregard  of  this 
second  truth,  which  is  as  important  as  the  first,  found  expression 
in  the  Monothelite  heresy,  so  far  as  Christology  is  concerned,  and 
in  Quietism  in  the  sphere  of  the  moral  doctrine. 

The  specifically-human  actions  conformable  to  the  grace  of 
God  (and  caused  by  its  preliminary  influence)  must  obviously 
express  man’s  normal  relation  to  God,  men,  and  to  his  own  material 
nature,  in  accordance  with  the  three  general  foundations  of 
morality — piety,  pity,  and  shame.  The  first  concentrated  active  ex- 
pression of  the  religious  feeling  or  piety — its  chief  work — is  prayer ; 
in  the  same  way,  the  work  of  pity  is  almsgiving , and  the  work  of 
shame  is  abstinence  or  fasting .2  These  three  works  condition  the 
beginning  and  the  development  of  the  new  life  of  grace  in  man. 
This  is  depicted  with  wonderful  clearness  and  simplicity  in  the 
holy  narrative  about  the  devout  centurion  Cornelius,  “ which  gave 
much  alms  to  the  people,  and  prayed  to  God  alway.”  In  his  own 
words,  “ I was  fasting  until  this  hour  : and  at  the  ninth  hour  I 

1 This  is  discussed  more  fully  in  my  Duhounia  osnoui  zhizni  (The  Spiritual  Founda- 
tions of  Life)  and  La  Russie  et  I’Eg/ise  universelle  (last  chapter). 

2 These  three  religiously  moral  works  are  dealt  with  at  length  in  the  first  part  of 
the  Duhoojniya  osno'ui  zhizni. 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  441 


prayed  in  my  house;  and,  behold,  a man  stood  before  me  in  bright 
clothing,  and  said,  Cornelius,  thy  prayer  is  heard,  and  thine  alms 
are  had  in  remembrance  in  the  sight  of  God  ” (then  follows  the 
command  to  send  for  Simon,  who  has  the  words  of  salvation). 
The  hidden  anticipatory  effect  of  God’s  grace,  which  Cornelius 
did  not  reject,  incited  him  to  do  human  good  and  strengthened  him 
in  the  works  of  prayer,  almsgiving,  and  fasting  ; and  these  works 
themselves,  as  is  here  directly  indicated,  called  forth  new  manifest 
effects  of  the  Divine  grace.  It  is  noteworthy,  too,  that  just  as 
the  appearance  of  the  angel  from  heaven  was  simply  an  exceptional 
means  of  carrying  out  the  established  method  of  piety  and  sending 
for  the  earthly  messenger  of  God,  the  earthly  mediator  of  the 
higher  life  and  truth,  so  the  exceptional  and  abundant  pouring  out 
of  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Ghost  on  Cornelius  and  his  household  after 
Peter’s  preaching  at  his  house  did  not  render  superfluous  for  them 
the  usual  and,  so  to  speak,  the  organic  method  of  beginning  the 
life  of  grace  through  the  real  and  mystical  means  of  baptism.1 

This  typical  narrative  is  still  more  remarkable  for  what  it  does 
not  contain.  Neither  the  angel  of  God  nor  Peter  the  apostle  of 
Christ's  peace , nor  the  voice  of  the  Holy  Spirit  Himself,  suddenly 
revealed  in  the  newly  converted,  told  the  centurion  of  the  Italian 
band  that  which,  according  to  the  recent  interpretation  of  Christi- 
anity, was  the  most  important  and  urgently  necessary  thing  for 
this  Roman  soldier.  They  did  not  tell  him  that  in  becoming  a 
Christian  he  had  first  of  all  to  lay  down  his  arms,  and  was  hound 
to  give  up  military  service.  This  supposed  necessary  demand  of 
Christianity  is  not  even  hinted  at  in  the  narrative,  although  it  is 
concerned  with  a soldier.  Refusal  to  do  military  service  does 
certainly  not  form  part  of  the  New  Testament  idea  of  what  is 
required  of  a warrior  of  this  world  in  order  that  he  might  become  a 
citizen  with  full  rights  in  the  kingdom  of  God.  In  addition  to  the 
things  the  centurion  Cornelius  was  already  doing,  namely,  prayer, 
almsgiving,  fasting, — he  had  “ to  call  Simon,  whose  surname  is 
Peter:  ...  he  shall  tell  thee  what  thou  oughtest  to  do.”  And  when 
Peter  came,  Cornelius  said  to  him,  “Now  therefore  are  we  all  here 
present  before  God,  to  hear  all  things  that  are  commanded  thee  of 
God."  But  the  things  which  God  commanded  the  apostle  to 
reveal  to  the  Roman  soldier  for  his  salvation  contained  no  reference 


1 Acts  x. 


442  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

to  military  service.  “Then  Peter  opened  his  mouth  and  said, 
Of  a truth  I perceive  that  God  is  no  respecter  of  persons  : but  in 
every  nation  he  that  feareth  him,  and  worketh  righteousness,  is 
accepted  with  him.  The  word  which  God  sent  unto  the  children 
of  Israel,  preaching  peace  by  Jesus  Christ:  (he  is  Lord  of  all:) 
that  word,  I say,  ye  know,  which  was  published  throughout 
all  Judaea,  and  began  from  Galilee,  after  the  baptism  which  John 
preached  ; how  God  anointed  Jesus  of  Nazareth  with  the  Holy 
Ghost  and  with  power  ; who  went  about  doing  good,  and  healing 
all  that  were  oppressed  of  the  devil : for  God  was  with  him. 
And  we  are  witnesses  of  all  things  which  he  did,  both  in  the  land 
of  the  Jews,  and  in  Jerusalem  ; whom  they  slew  and  hanged  on  a 
tree  ; him  God  raised  up  the  third  day,  and  shewed  him  openly  ; 
not  to  all  the  people,  but  unto  witnesses  chosen  before  of  God, 
even  to  us,  who  did  eat  and  drink  with  him  after  he  rose  from  the 
dead.  And  he  commanded  us  to  preach  unto  the  people,  and  to 
testify  that  it  is  he  which  was  ordained  of  God  to  be  the  Judge 
of  quick  and  dead.  To  him  give  all  the  prophets  witness,  that 
through  his  name  whosoever  believeth  in  him  shall  receive  remis- 
sion of  sins.  While  Peter  yet  spake  these  words,  the  Holy  Ghost 
fell  on  all  them  which  heard  the  word.” 

I am  dwelling  upon  the  story  of  Cornelius  the  centurion,  not 
because  I want  to  raise  once  more  the  question  of  military  service,1 
but  because  this  story  seems  to  me  to  throw  clear  light  on  the 
general  question  as  to  the  relation  of  the  Church  to  the  state,  of 
Christianity  to  the  empire,  of  the  Kingdom  of  God  to  the  kingdom 
of  this  world,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  on  the  question  of  the 
Christian  state.  If  the  centurion  Cornelius,  having  become  a real 
Christian,  remained,  nevertheless,  a soldier,  and  was  not  divided 
into  two  alien  and  disconnected  personalities,  it  is  clear  that  he 
must  have  become  a Christian  soldier.  A collection  of  such  soldiers 
forms  a Christian  army.  Now  the  army  is  both  the  extreme 
expression  and  the  first  real  basis  of  the  state  ; and  if  a Christian 
army  is  possible,  a Christian  state  is  therefore  even  more  possible. 
That  the  historical  Christianity  solved  the  question  precisely 
in  this  sense  there  can  be  no  doubt.  The  only  thing  that  can 
be  called  in  question  is  the  inner  ground  for  that  solution. 

1 See  above,  Chapter  IX.,  ‘The  Significance  of  War.’ 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  443 


XII 

When  the  centurion  Cornelius  was  a pagan,  the  same  feeling 
of  pity  which  impelled  him  ‘to  give  much  alms’  also  urged  him, 
no  doubt,  to  defend  the  weak  from  injuries  and  to  force  violent 
and  aggressive  men  to  obey  the  law.  He  knew  that  law,  like 
every  human  utility,  is  only  a relative  good  and  may  be  abused  ; 
he  may  have  heard  of  the  revolting  abuse  of  legal  authority  which 
the  procurator  Pontius  allowed  when,  under  the  influence  of  the 
envious  and  vindictive  priesthood  of  Jerusalem,  he  sentenced  to 
death  the  virtuous  Rabbi  from  Nazareth.  But  being  a just  man, 
Cornelius  knew  also  that  abusus  non  tollit  mum , and  deduced  no 
general  conclusions  from  exceptional  instances.  A true  Roman — 
to  judge  by  his  name, — he  was  conscious  with  noble  pride  of  his 
own  share  in  the  destiny  of  the  city  that  ruled  the  world  : 

...  to  make  the  world  obey. 

To  tame  the  proud,  the  fetter’d  slave  to  free. 

And  it  was  not  for  him  an  abstract  conviction.  In  Palestine, 
where  his  band  was  stationed,  it  was  Roman  arms  alone  that  put 
a stop,  for  a time  at  any  rate,  to  the  fierce  intestine  wars  between 
different  dynasties  and  parties,  accompanied  by  savage  slaughter. 
And  it  was  only  under  the  asgis  of  the  Roman  power  that  the 
neighbouring  clans  of  the  Edomites  and  the  Arabs  gradually 
emerged  out  of  the  condition  of  continual  wars  and  crude 
barbarism. 

Cornelius  then  did  not  err  in  thinking  highly  of  his  vocation, 
and  in  considering  the  state  and  its  chief  organ,  the  army,  a power 
necessary  for  the  common  good.  Ought  he  to  have  changed  his 
judgment  when  he  became  a Christian  ? A new,  higher,  and 
purely  spiritual  life  was  revealed  in  him , but  this  fact  did  not 
abolish  the  evil  outside  of  him.  The  pity  which  justified  his 
military  calling  referred  precisely  to  those  who  were  suffering 
from  the  external  evil,  which  remained  what  it  was.  Or  perhaps 
the  higher  life  revealed  in  him,  ought,  without  abolishing  the 
external  evil,  to  have  abolished  the  inward  good  in  him — the  pity 
or  charity  which  was  ‘ remembered  by  God,’  and  to  have  replaced 
it  by  indifference  to  the  sufferings  of  others.  Such  indifference  or 
unfeelingness,  however,  is  the  distinctive  mark  of  the  stone — of 


444  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

the  lower  and  not  of  the  higher  grade  of  being.  But  perhaps,  in 
addition  to  compassion,  the  Christian  receives,  together  with  the 
new  life,  a special  power  to  overcome  every  external  evil  without 
resisting  it  by  force — to  overcome  it  by  immediate  moral  effect 
alone,  or  by  the  miracle  of  grace.  This  supposition  is  remarkably 
ill-founded  and  is  based  upon  a complete  misunderstanding  both 
of  the  nature  of  grace  and  of  its  moral  conditions.  We  know  that 
Christ  Himself  encountered  upon  earth  such  human  environment 
that  His  grace  could  not  work  miracles  ‘because  of  their  unbelief.’ 
We  know  that  in  the  very  best  environment — in  the  midst  of  His 
apostles — He  found  ‘the  son  of  perdition.’  We  know  that  of  the 
two  thieves  who  were  crucified  only  one  repented.  It  is  uncertain 
whether  he  would  have  been  susceptible  to  the  Divine  grace  under 
other  circumstances,  but  it  is  quite  certain  that  his  comrade 
remained  inaccessible  to  it  even  under  these  circumstances. 

Those  who  affirm  that  every  evil-doer  may  be  all  at  once  con- 
verted to  the  good  and  restrained  from  crime  by  the  immediate 
effect  of  the  inner  power  of  grace  alone,  do  not  in  the  least 
realise  the  meaning  of  what  they  are  saying.  So  far  as  the 
inward,  purely-spiritual  power  of  the  good  is  concerned,  its  dis- 
tinctive characteristic  lies  precisely  in  the  fact  that  it  does  not 
work  like  a mechanical  agency  which  inevitably  produces  external 
physical  changes,  but  that  it  acts  only  on  condition  of  being 
inwardly  received  by  the  person  upon  whom  it  acts- — a truth 
which,  one  would  have  thought,  the  case  of  Judas  made  obvious 
to  the  blind. 

The  power  of  the  grace  of  Christ  affected  men  who  were 
sinful  owing  to  the  infirmity  of  the  flesh  and  not  owing  to  the 
firmness  of  the  evil  will — men  who  were  not  happy  in  their  sins, 
but  suffered  from  them  and  felt  the  need  of  a physician.  It  was 
of  these  sick  ready  to  be  healed  Christ  said  that  they  will  enter 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  before  the  self-righteous,  and  this  precisely 
was  the  reason  why  the  latter  hated  Him  and  reproached  Him 
for  condescending  to  mix  with  publicans  and  sinners.  But 
even  His  enemies  could  find  no  pretext  to  accuse  Him  of  con- 
doning bloodthirsty  murderers,  impious  blasphemers,  shameless 
seducers,  and  professional  criminals  of  all  kinds,  enemies  of 
human  society.  But,  it  will  be  said,  He  left  them  in  peace. 
There  was,  however,  no  occasion  for  Him  to  deal  with  them 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  445 

since  there  existed  Roman  and  Jewish  authorities  whose  business 
it  was  precisely  to  restrain  evil,  as  far  as  possible,  by  compulsion. 

According  to  both  the  spirit  and  the  letter  of  the  Gospel  we 
must  not  appeal  to  the  powers  that  be  for  enforced  defence  of 
ourselves  against  attacks  on  our  person  or  property.  I ought  not 
to  drag  into  the  law  court  and  prison  the  man  who  strikes  me  or 
walks  away  with  my  fur  coat.  I ought  with  all  my  heart  to 
forgive  the  wrong-doer  for  the  wrong  which  he  does  me,  and  not 
to  offer  any  resistance  to  him  so  far  as  I alone  am  concerned. 
This  is  clear  and  obvious.  It  is  clear,  too,  that  I must  not  give 
way  to  evil  feeling  against  the  person  who  wrongs  my  neighbours 
— him,  too,  I must  forgive  in  my  heart  and  regard  him  as  a fellow- 
man.  What  practical  duty,  however,  does  the  moral  principle 
impose  upon  us  in  that  case  ? Can  my  duty  be  actually  the  same 
in  the  case  of  my  own  injury  and  that  of  another  ? To  allow 
injury  to  myself  means  to  sacrifice  myself,  and  is  a moral  act  ; to 
allow  injury  to  others  means  sacrificing  others,  and  this  can  certainly 
not  be  called  self-sacrifice.  The  moral  duty  towards  others,  psycho- 
logically based  upon  pity,  must  not  in  practice  give  rights  to 
violent  men  and  evil-doers  alone.  Peaceful  and  weak  persons  also 
have  a right  to  our  active  pity  or  help.  And  since,  as  individuals, 
we  are  unable  to  give  continual  and  sufficient  help  to  all  the 
injured,  we  must  do  this  in  our  collective  capacity,  that  is,  through 
the  state.  Political  organisation  is  a naturally-human  good,  as 
necessary  to  our  life  as  our  physical  organism  is  necessary  to  it. 
In  giving  us  a higher  spiritual  good  Christianity  does  not  deprive 
us  of  the  lower,  natural  goods — it  does  not  pull  from  under  our 
feet  the  ladder  which  we  are  mounting. 

With  the  coming  of  Christianity  and  the  good  news  of  the 
Kingdom  of  God,  the  animal,  vegetable,  and  mineral  kingdoms 
did  not  disappear.  And  if  they  have  not  been  abolished,  there  is 
no  reason  why  the  naturally-human  kingdom,  embodied  in  political 
organisation,  should  be  abolished  either,  since  it  is  just  as  necessary 
in  the  historical  process  as  the  others  are  in  the  cosmical.  Nothing 
could  be  more  absurd  than  to  maintain  that  although  we  cannot 
cease  to  be  animals  we  ought  to  cease  being  citizens. 

The  fact  that  the  purpose  of  Christ’s  coming  to  the  earth 
could  not  consist  in  creating  a kingdom  of  this  world  or  a state — 
which  had  already  been  founded  long  ago — in  no  way  proves  that 


446  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

He  took  up  a negative  attitude  with  regard  to  the  state.  The 
circumstance  that  the  Gospel  does  not  deal  with  the  external 
means  of  protecting  humanity  from  the  crudely-destructive  effect 
of  the  powers  of  evil  could  entitle  us  to  draw  conclusions  only 
if  the  Gospel  had  appeared  before  the  foundation  of  the  state, 
in  a community  that  had  neither  law  nor  authority  nor  organised 
justice.  There  was  no  need  to  give  in  the  Gospel  over  again  the 
principles  of  civic  and  juridical  order  which  had,  many  centuries 
before,  been  already  given  in  the  Pentateuch.  If  Christ  did  not 
intend  to  reject  them,  He  could  do  nothing  but  confirm  them, 
and  this  was  precisely  what  He  did.  “ One  jot  or  one  tittle  shall 
in  no  wise  pass  from  the  law.  . . . Think  not  that  I am  come 
to  destroy  the  law.  ...  1 am  not  come  to  destroy,  but  to  fulfil.” 

But,  it  will  be  urged,  the  grace  and  truth  manifested  in  Christ 
made  the  law  void.  Now,  when  exactly  did  this  happen  ? Was 
it  when  Judas  betrayed  his  master,  or  when  Ananias  and  Sapphira 
deceived  the  Apostles,  or  when  the  deacon  Nicolas  introduced 
sexual  laxity  under  the  pretext  of  brotherhood,  or  when  a 
Christian  of  Corinth  was  guilty  of  incest  ? Or  was  it  when  the 
Spirit  wrote  through  the  prophet  of  the  New  Testament  to  the 
Churches  and  said  to  the  representative  of  one  of  them,  “ I know 
thy  works,  that  thou  hast  a name  that  thou  livest,  and  art  dead  ” 
(Rev.  iii.  i)  ; and  to  another,  “ I know  thy  works,  that  thou  art 
neither  cold  nor  hot : I would  thou  wert  cold  or  hot.  So  then 
because  thou  art  lukewarm,  and  neither  cold  nor  hot,  I will  spue 
thee  out  of  my  mouth”  (vv.  15,  16). 

If  then,  from  the  time  grace  and  truth  first  appeared  and  to  this 
day,  they  have  not  taken  possession  either  of  the  whole  nor  even 
of  the  majority  of  Christian  humanity,  the  question  is  how  and  in 
whom  has  the  law  been  made  void.  Could  the  law  have  been 
made  void  by  grace  in  those  who  have  neither  law  nor  grace  ? 
It  is  obvious  that  for  them,  that  is,  for  the  majority  of  mankind, 
the  law  must,  according  to  the  word  of  Christ,  remain  in  full 
force  as  the  external  limit  of  their  liberty.  And  in  order  to  be 
such  a limit,  the  law  must  possess  sufficient  power  of  compulsion, 
that  is,  must  be  embodied  in  the  organisation  of  the  State  with 
its  law  courts,  police,  armies.  And  in  so  far  as  Christianity  did 
not  abolish  the  law,  it  could  not  abolish  the  State.  This  necessary 
and  rational  fact  does  not,  however,  by  any  means  prove  that  the 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  447 

inner  relation  of  men  to  the  external  force  embodied  in  the  state, 
and  consequently  the  general  and  particular  character  of  its 
activity,  remained  unchanged.  Chemical  substance  does  not 
disappear  in  vegetable  and  animal  bodies,  but  acquires  new 
peculiarities  in  them,  so  that  there  exists  a whole  science  of 
organic  chemistry.  The  case  of  Christian  policy  is  similar.  A 
Christian  state  must,  if  it  is  not  a mere  name,  distinctly  differ 
from  a heathen  state,  though  as  states  both  have  the  same  basis 
and  common  aim. 


XIII 

“A  peasant  goes  forth  into  the  fields  to  his  husbandry;  a 
Polovets  falls  upon  him,  slays  him,  and  drives  away  his  horse. 
Then  in  a crowd  the  Polovtsi  come  out  against  the  village,  kill 
all  the  peasants,  set  fire  to  the  houses  and  lead  the  women  away 
into  captivity,  while  the  princes  are  taken  up  with  feuds  among 
themselves.” 1 If  pity  for  these  peasants  was  not  to  be  confined 
to  sentimental  words  alone,  it  was  bound  to  lead  to  the  organisation 
of  a strong  central  authority  sufficient  to  defend  the  peasants  from 
intestine  wars  between  the  princes  and  the  raids  of  the  Polovtsi. 

When,  in  another  country,  the  greatest  of  her  poets  ex- 
claimed with  profound  grief,  which  he  showed  not  in  words  only  : 

Ahi,  serva  Italia  dei  dolor’  ostello, 

Nave  senza  nocchiero  in  gran  tempesta  ! 2 

— the  same  pity  directly  incited  him  to  call  from  beyond  the 
Alps  a supreme  representative  of  state  authority,  a strong  pro- 
tector from  incessant  and  unbearable  acts  of  violence.  The  pity 
for  the  actual  calamities  of  Italy,  expressed  in  many  passages  of 
the  Divine  Comedy , and  the  appeal  for  a state  invested  with  the 
fulness  of  power  as  a necessary  means  of  salvation  took  the  form 
of  a definite,  well-thought-out  conviction  in  Dante’s  book  On 
Monarchy. 

The  troubles  of  anarchy  or  of  a weakly-developed  state,  that 
called  forth  the  pity  of  Vladimir  Monomakh  and  of  Dante,  can 

1 From  the  Instruction  of  Vladimir  Monomakh,  one  of  the  rulers  of  Russia  in  the 
eleventh  century,  to  his  children. — Translator' s Note. 

2 “ Italy,  the  slave  and  the  abode  of  suffering,  a ship  without  a pilot  amidst  terrible 
storms.” 


448  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

only  be  cured  or  remedied  by  a powerful  state,  and  would  inevit- 
ably arise  again  if  it  disappeared.  The  purely  moral  motives  were 
obviously  insufficient  in  the  thirteenth  century  to  prevent  men 
from  trying  to  exterminate  one  another.  And  even  granting  that 
at  the  present  day  these  motives  have  become  stronger  and  more 
widely  spread — though  this  is  doubtful, — it  would  be  ridiculous  to 
maintain  that  they  are  in  themselves  sufficient  for  the  maintenance 
of  peace.  It  is  obvious  that  Italian  citizens  no  longer  give  vent 
to  their  party  differences  by  cutting  each  other’s  throats  solely 
because  of  the  compulsory  order  of  the  state  with  its  army  and 
police.  As  to  Russia — not  to  speak  of  the  intestine  wars  among 
the  princes,  and  of  the  people  taking  the  law  into  their  own  hands, 
— there  is  no  doubt  that  the  savage  races  which  the  duchy  of 
Moscow  and  the  Russian  empire  had  with  such  difficulty  gradu- 
ally driven  farther  and  farther  away  from  the  centre  of  the  country, 
submitted  to  force  rather  than  became  regenerated.  And  if,  God 
forbid,  the  lance  and  the  bayonet  were  to  disappear  or  to  lose  their 
force  on  the  Caucasian,  Turkestan,  or  Siberian  frontier  all  moralists 
would  become  at  once  convinced  of  the  true  nature  of  these  ex- 
cellent institutions.1 

yust  as  the  Church  is  collectively  organised  piety , so  the  state  is 
collectively  organised  pity.  To  affirm,  therefore,  that  from  its  very 
nature  the  Christian  religion  is  opposed  to  the  state  is  to  affirm 
that  the  Christian  religion  is  opposed  to  pity.  In  truth,  however, 
the  Gospel  not  merely  insists  upon  the  morally  binding  character  of 
pity  or  altruism,  but  decidedly  confirms  the  view,  expressed  already 
in  the  Old  Testament,  that  there  can  be  no  true  piety  apart  from 
pity  : cc  I will  have  mercy  and  not  sacrifice.” 

If,  however,  pity  be  admitted  in  principle,  it  is  logically  inevit- 
able to  admit  also  the  historical  organisation  of  social  forces  and 
activities,  which  raises  pity  from  the  stage  of  a powerless  and 
limited  feeling  and  gives  it  actuality,  wide  application,  and  means 
of  development.  From  the  point  of  view  of  pity  it  is  impossible 

1 My  father  had  as  a boy  heard  first-hand  reminiscences  of  how  armed  bands  of 
Mongolians  on  the  Volga  engaged  in  open  brigandage  carried  away  into  captivity  whole 
families  of  Russian  travellers  and  tormented  them  in  all  sorts  of  ways.  At  the  present 
time  this  no  longer  happens  on  the  Volga,  but  on  the  Amur  such  things  are  still  known 
to  take  place.  The  perpetual  war  mission  of  the  state  is  therefore  not  yet  over  for 
Russia,  and,  had  the  good  centurion  Cornelius  lived  in  our  day,  no  moral  motives  could 
prevent  him  from  being  a sotnik  of  the  Kossacks  in  the  Ussuriisky  region. 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  449 

to  reject  the  institution  owing  to  which  one  can  practically  pity , 
i.e.  give  help  and  protection  to  tens  and  hundreds  of  millions  of  men 
instead  of  dozens  or  at  most  hundreds  of  people. 

The  definition  of  the  state  (so  far  as  its  moral  significance  is 
concerned)  as  organised  pity  can  only  be  rejected  through  miscon- 
ception. Some  of  these  misconceptions  must  be  considered  before 
we  go  on  to  deal  with  the  conception  of  the  Christian  state. 

XIV 

It  is  urged  that  the  stern  and  often  cruel  character  of  the  state 
obviously  contradicts  the  definition  of  it  as  organised  pity.  But 
this  objection  is  based  on  a confusion  between  the  necessary  and 
sensible  severity  and  useless  and  arbitrary  cruelty.  The  first  is 
not  opposed  to  pity,  and  the  second,  being  an  abuse,  is  opposed  to 
the  very  meaning  of  the  state , and  therefore  does  not  contradict  the 
definition  of  the  state — of  the  normal  state,  of  course — as  organised 
pity.  The  supposed  contradiction  is  based  upon  grounds  as  super- 
ficial as  the  argument  that  the  senseless  cruelty  of  an  unsuccessful 
surgical  operation  and  the  sufferings  of  the  patient  in  the  case  even 
of  a successful  operation  are  in  obvious  contradiction  to  the  idea 
of  surgery  as  a beneficent  art  helpful  to  man  in  certain  bodily 
sufferings.  It  is  obvious  that  such  representatives  of  state  authority 
as  Ivan  the  Terrible  are  as  little  evidence  against  the  altruistic 
basis  of  the  state,  as  bad  surgeons  are  against  the  usefulness  of 
surgery.  I am  aware  that  an  educated  reader  may  well  feel  in- 
sulted at  being  reminded  of  such  elementary  truths,  but  if  he  is 
acquainted  with  the  recent  movement  of  thought  in  Russia  he 
will  not  hold  me  responsible  for  the  insult. 

But,  it  will  be  maintained,  even  the  most  normal  state  is 
inevitably  pitiless.  In  pitying  peaceful  people  whom  it  defends 
against  men  of  violence,  it  is  bound  to  treat  the  latter  without 
pity.  Such  one-sided  pity  is  out  of  keeping  with  the  moral  ideal. 
This  is  indisputable,  but  again  it  says  nothing  against  our  defini- 
tion of  the  state,  for,  in  the  first  place,  even  one-sided  pity  is  pity 
and  not  anything  else  ; and  secondly,  even  the  normal  state  is  not 
by  any  means  an  expression  of  the  moral  ideal  already  attained,  but 
only  one  of  the  chief  means  necessary  for  its  attainment.  The 
ideal  condition  of  mankind,  or  the  Kingdom  of  God,  when  attained , 

2 G 


450  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 


is  obviously  incompatible  with  the  state,  but  it  is  also  incompatible 
with  pity.  When  everything  will  once  more  be  good  there  will 
be  no  one  to  pity.  And  so  long  as  there  are  men  to  be  pitied,  there 
are  men  to  be  defended  ; and  the  moral  demand  for  organising 
such  protection  efficiently  and  on  a wide  scale — i.e.  the  moral 
significance  of  the  state— remains  in  force.  As  for  the  pitiless- 
ness of  the  state  to  those  from  whom  or  against  whom  it  has  to 
defend  the  peaceful  society,  it  is  not  anything  fatal  or  inevitable  ; 
and  although  it  undoubtedly  is  a fact,  it  is  not  an  unchangeable 
fact.  In  point  of  history  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  relation  of 
the  state  towards  its  enemies  is  becoming  less  cruel,  and  conse- 
quently more  merciful.  In  old  days  they  used  to  be  put  to  painful 
death  together  with  their  family  and  relatives  (as  is  still  the  case 
in  China).  Later,  every  one  had  to  answer  for  himself,  and  sub- 
sequently the  very  character  of  the  responsibility  has  changed. 
Criminals  have  ceased  to  be  tormented  solely  for  the  sake  of  inflict- 
ing pain  ; and  at  the  present  time  the  positive  task  of  helping  them 
morally  is  recognised.  What  can  be  the  ultimate  reason  of  such  a 
change  ? When  the  state  limits  or  abolishes  the  penalty  of  death, 
abolishes  torture  and  corporal  punishment,  is  concerned  with  im- 
proving prisons  and  places  of  exile,  it  is  obvious  that  in  pitying 
and  protecting  peaceful  citizens  who  suffer  from  crimes,  it  begins 
to  extend  its  pity  to  the  opposite  side  also — to  the  criminals  them- 
selves. The  reference,  therefore,  to  the  one-sided  pity  is  beginning 
to  lose  force  as  a fact.  And  it  is  through  the  state  alone  that  the 
organisation  of  pity  ceases  to  be  one-sided,  since  the  human  crowd 
is  still  for  the  most  part  guided  in  its  relation  to  the  enemies  of 
society  by  the  old  pitiless  maxims,  ‘ to  the  dog,  a dog’s  death  ’ ; 
‘ the  thief  deserves  all  he  gets  ’ ; ‘as  a warning  to  others,’  etc. 
Such  maxims  are  losing  their  practical  force  precisely  owing  to 
the  state,  which  is  in  this  case  more  free  from  partiality  either  to 
the  one  side  or  the  other.  Restraining  with  an  authoritative  hand 
the  vindictive  instincts  of  the  crowd,  ready  to  tear  the  criminal 
to  pieces,  the  state  at  the  same  time  never  renounces  the  humane 
duty  to  oppose  crimes,— as  the  strange  moralists,  who  in  truth 
pity  only  the  aggressive,  violent,  and  rapacious,  and  are  utterly 
indifferent  to  their  victims,  would  have  it  do.  This  indeed  is  a 
case  of  one-sided  pity  ! 1 

1 See  above,  Part  III.  Chapter  VI.,  ‘ The  Penal  Question  from  the  Moral  Point  of  View.’ 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  451 


XV 

Our  definition  of  state  may  lead  to  a less  crude  misconception 
on  the  part  of  the  jurists,  who  regard  the  state  as  the  embodiment 
of  legality  as  an  absolutely  independent  principle,  distinct  from 
morality  in  general  and  from  motives  of  pity  in  particular.  The 
true  distinction  between  legal  justice  and  morality  has  already 
been  indicated.1  It  does  not  destroy  the  connection  between 
them  ; on  the  contrary,  it  is  due  to  that  connection.  If  this  dis- 
tinction is  to  be  replaced  by  separation  and  opposition,  an  uncon- 
ditional principle  must  be  found  which  shall  ultimately  determine 
every  legal  relation  as  such  and  be  altogether  outside  of,  and  as  far 
as  possible  removed  from,  the  moral  sphere. 

Such  an  a-moral  and  even  anti-moral  principle  is  to  be  found 
in  the  first  place  in  might  or  force  : Machi  geht  vor  Recht.  That 
in  the  order  of  history  relations  based  upon  right  follow  those 
based  upon  force  is  as  unquestionable  as  the  fact  that  in  the  his- 
tory of  our  planet  the  organic  life  appeared  after  the  inorganic 
and  on  the  basis  of  it — which  does  not  prove,  of  course,  that 
inorganic  matter  is  the  specific  principle  of  the  organic  forms  as 
such.  The  play  of  natural  forces  in  humanity  is  simply  the 
material  for  relations  determined  by  the  conception  of  right  and 
not  the  principle  of  such  relations,  since  otherwise  there  could  be 
no  distinction  between  right  and  rightlessness.  Right  means  the 
limitation  of  might,  and  the  whole  point  is  the  nature  of  the 
limitation.  Similarly,  morality  might  be  defined  as  the  overcoming 
of  evil , which  does  not  imply  that  evil  is  the  principle  of  morality. 

We  shall  not  advance  any  further  in  the  definition  of  right  it 
we  replace  the  conception  of  might,  derived  from  the  physical 
sphere,  by  the  more  human  conception  of  freedom.  That 
individual  freedom  lies  at  the  basis  of  all  relations  determined  by 
law  there  can  be  no  doubt,  but  is  it  really  the  unconditional 
principle  of  legality  ? There  are  two  reasons  why  this  cannot 
be  the  case.  In  the  first  place,  because  in  reality  it  is  not  uncon- 
ditional, and,  secondly,  because  it  is  not  the  determining  principle 
of  legality.  With  regard  to  the  first  point,  I mean  not  that 
human  freedom  is  never  unconditional,  but  that  it  is  not  uncon- 
1 See  above,  Part  III.  Chapter  VIII.,  ‘ Morality  and  Legal  Justice.’ 


452  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

ditional  in  that  sphere  of  concrete  relations  in  which  and  for  the 
sake  of  which  law  exists.  Suppose  that  some  man  living  in  the 
flesh  on  earth  actually  possessed  absolute  freedom,  that  is,  that  he 
could  by  the  act  of  his  will  alone,  independently  of  any  external 
circumstances  and  necessary  intermediate  processes,  accomplish 
everything  he  wished.  It  is  obvious  that  such  a man  would 
stand  outside  the  sphere  of  relations  determined  by  legality.  If 
his  unconditionally  free  will  determined  itself  on  the  side  of  evil, 
no  external  action  could  limit  it ; it  would  be  inaccessible  to  law 
and  authority.  And  if  it  were  determined  on  the  side  of  the 
good  it  would  make  all  law  and  all  authority  superfluous. 

It  is  then  irrelevant  to  speak  of  unconditional  freedom  in 
this  connection,  since  it  belongs  to  quite  a different  sphere  of 
relations.  Legality  is  concerned  only  with  limited  and  conditional 
freedom,  and  the  question  is  precisely  as  to  what  limitations  or 
conditions  are  lawful.  The  liberty  of  one  person  is  limited  by 
the  liberty  of  another,  but  not  every  such  limitation  is  consistent 
with  the  principle  of  legality.  If  the  freedom  of  one  man  is 
limited  by  the  freedom  of  his  neighbour  who  is  free  to  wring  his 
neck  or  chain  him  up  at  his  pleasure,  there  can  be  no  question  of 
legality  at  all,  and  in  any  case  such  a limitation  of  freedom  shows 
no  specific  characteristics  of  the  principle  of  legality  as  such. 
These  characteristics  must  be  sought  not  in  the  mere  fact  of  the 
limitation  of  freedom,  but  in  the  equal  and  universal  character  of 
the  limitation.  If  the  freedom  of  one  is  limited  to  the  same 
extent  as  the  freedom  of  the  other,  or  if  the  free  activity  of  each 
meets  with  a restriction  that  is  common  to  all,  then  only  is  the 
limitation  of  freedom  determined  by  the  conception  of  law. 

The  principle  of  legality  is  then  freedom  within  the  limits  of 
equality,  or  freedom  conditioned  by  equality — consequently  a 
conditional  freedom.  But  the  equality  which  determines  it  is 
not  an  absolutely  independent  principle  either.  The  essential 
characteristic  of  the  legal  norms  is  that,  in  addition  to  equality, 
they  should  necessarily  answer,  too,  the  demand  for  justice. 
Although  these  two  ideas  are  akin,  they  are  far  from  being  identical. 
When  the  Pharaoh  issued  a law  commanding  to  put  to  death  all 
the  Jewish  new-born  babes,  this  law  was  certainly  not  unjust 
on  account  of  the  unequal  treatment  of  the  Jewish  and  the 
Egyptian  babes.  And  if  the  Pharaoh  subsequently  gave  orders  to 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  453 


put  to  death  all  new-born  infants  and  not  only  the  Jewish  ones, 
no  one  would  venture  to  call  this  new  law  just,  although  it 
would  satisfy  the  demand  for  equality.  Justice  is  not  mere 
equality,  but  equality  in  fulfilling  that  which  is  right.  A just 
debtor  is  not  one  who  equally  refuses  to  pay  all  his  creditors  but 
who  equally  pays  them  all.  A just  father  is  not  one  who  is 
equally  indifferent  to  all  his  children  but  who  shows  equal  love 
for  all  of  them. 

Equality,  then,  can  be  just  or  unjust,  and  it  is  the  just  equality 
or,  in  the  last  resort,  justice  that  determines  the  legal  norms. 
The  conception  of  justice  at  once  introduces  us  into  the  moral 
sphere.  And  in  that  sphere  we  know  that  each  virtue  is  not  in  a 
cage  by  itself,  but  all  of  them,  justice  among  them,  are  different 
modifications  of  one  or,  rather,  of  the  threefold  principle  which 
determines  our  rightful  relation  to  everything.  And  since  justice 
is  concerned  with  man’s  moral  interaction  with  his  fellow-beings, 
it  is  merely  a species  of  the  moral  motive  which  lies  at  the  basis 
of  inter-human  relations,  namely  of  pity  : justice  is  pity  equally 
applied .l 

In  so  far  then  as  legality  is  determined  by  justice  it  is 
essentially  related  to  the  moral  sphere.  All  definitions  of  law 
which  try  to  separate  it  from  morality  leave  its  real  nature  un- 
touched. Thus,  in  addition  to  the  definition  already  mentioned, 
Iering’s  famous  definition  declares  that  ‘law  is  a protected  or 
safeguarded  interest.’  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  law  does 
defend  interest,  but  not  every  interest.  It  obviously  defends 
only  the  just  interests  or,  in  other  words,  it  defends  every  interest 
in  so  far  as  it  is  just.  What,  however,  is  meant  by  justice  in 
this  connection  ? To  say  that  a just  interest  is  an  interest  safe- 
guarded by  law  is  to  be  guilty  of  the  crudest  possible  logical 
circle  which  can  only  be  avoided  if  justice  be  once  more  taken  in 
its  essential,  i.e.  in  its  moral,  sense.  This  does  not  prevent  us 
from  recognising  that  the  moral  principle  itself,  so  far  as  the 
inevitable  conditions  of  its  existence  are  concerned,  is  realised  in 
different  ways,  and  to  a greater  or  lesser  degree.  For  instance 
there  is  the  distinction  between  the  external,  formal,  or  strictly- 
legal  justice  and  the  inner,  essential,  or  purely-moral  justice,  the 
supreme  and  ultimate  standard  of  right  and  wrong  being  one  and 
1 See  above,  Part  I.  Chapter  V.,  ‘ Virtues.’ 


454  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

the  same — namely,  the  moral  principle.  Possible  conflict  between 
‘outer  ’ and  ‘ inner  ’ justice  in  particular  cases  is  in  itself  no  argu- 
ment against  their  being  essentially  one,  since  similar  conflict  may 
arise  in  the  carrying  out  of  the  simplest  and  most  fundamental 
moral  demands.  Thus,  for  instance,  pity  may  demand  that  I 
should  save  two  men  who  are  drowning,  but  being  unable  to  save 
both,  I have  to  choose  between  the  two.  The  cases  of  difficult 
choice  between  complex  applications  of  legal  justice  and  morality 
in  the  strict  sense  are  no  proof  of  there  being  any  essential  and 
irreducible  opposition  between  the  two.  The  argument  that  the 
conceptions  of  justice  and  morality  alter  in  the  course  of  history 
is  equally  unconvincing.  It  might  carry  some  weight  if  the  rights 
and  laws  remained  meanwhile  unchanged.  In  truth,  however,  they 
change  even  more  according  to  place  and  time.  What  conclusion, 
then,  are  we  to  adopt  ? There  is  change  in  the  particular  con- 
ceptions of  justice,  there  is  change  in  the  rights  and  laws,  but  one 
thing  remains  unchangeable  : the  demand  that  the  rights  and 
laws  should  be  just.  The  inner  dependence  of  legal  forms  upon 
morality — independently  of  all  external  conditions — remains  a 
fact.  To  avoid  this  conclusion  one  would  have  to  go  very  far — 
to  the  country,  seen  by  the  pilgrim  women  in  Ostrovsky’s  play, 
where  lawful  requests  to  Mahmut  of  Persia  and  Mahmut  of 
Turkey  were  to  begin  by  the  phrase  “Judge  me,  O thou  unjust 
judge.” 

Iering’s  definition  undergoes  a change  in  the  formula  accord- 
ing to  which  law  discriminates  between  interests  in  contradistinc- 
tion to  morality  which  values  them.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that 
legal  justice  discriminates  between  people’s  interests  and,  equally, 
that  it  defends  them.  But  this  fact  alone  gives  as  yet  no  idea 
of  the  essence  of  legality.  There  may  be  discrimination  of 
interests  on  grounds  which  have  nothing  to  do  with  legality,  and 
the  definition  thus  proves  to  be  too  wide.  Thus  if  robbers  in  a 
wood  attack  the  travellers  and  leave  them  their  life  but  seize  all 
their  property,  this  will  no  doubt  be  a case  of  the  discrimination 
of  interests,  but  to  see  in  it  anything  in  common  with  legal  right 
is  only  possible  in  the  sense  in  which  all  violence  is  the  expres- 
sion of  the  right  of  the  fist,  or  the  right  of  brute  force.  In 
truth,  legality  is  determined  not  of  course  by  the  fact  of  the 
discrimination  between  interests,  but  by  the  constant  and  universal 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  455 

norm  of  such  discrimination.  To  be  consistent  with  the  concep- 
tion of  right,  the  discrimination  of  interests  must  be  correct, 
normal,  or  just.  In  drawing  a distinction  between  the  normal 
and  the  abnormal  discrimination  of  interests,  and  referring  the  first 
only  to  the  province  of  legal  justice,  we  obviously  make  a valuation 
of  them,  and  therefore  the  supposed  opposition  between  legality 
and  morality  falls  to  the  ground.  When  we  find  some  laws  to  be 
unjust  and  work  for  their  repeal,  then,  though  we  do  not  leave 
the  domain  of  legality,  we  are  concerned  not  with  any  real  dis- 
crimination of  interests,  but  in  the  first  place  with  valuing  the 
already  existing  discrimination,  which  in  its  own  day  was  also 
conditioned  by  judgments  of  value,  though  they  were  different 
from  those  we  pass  now  and  opposed  to  them. 

If  morality  then  be  defined  as  the  valuation  of  interests,  legal 
justice  forms  an  essential  part  of  morality.  This  is  by  no  means 
contradicted  by  the  fact  that  the  standard  of  value  in  morality  in 
the  strict  sense  and  in  the  legal  sphere  is  not  the  same.  This 
difference,  the  necessity,  namely,  for  recognising  legal  relations 
apart  from  the  purely -moral  ones,  is  itself  based  upon  moral 
grounds  — upon  the  demand,  namely,  that  the  highest,  the  final 
good  should  be  realised  apart  from  any  external  compulsion,  and 
that,  consequently,  there  should  be  some  possibility  of  choice 
between  good  and  evil.  Or,  to  put  it  in  a paradoxical  form,  the 
highest  morality  demands  a certain  freedom  to  be  immoral.  This 
demand  is  carried  out  by  legal  justice  which  compels  the  individual 
to  do  the  minimum  of  good  necessary  to  the  social  life,  and,  in 
the  interest  of  the  truly  moral,  that  is,  of  free  perfection,  safe- 
guards him  from  the  senseless  and  pernicious  experiments  in 
compulsory  righteousness  and  obligatory  holiness.1 

Thus  if  the  state  is  the  objective  expression  of  right,  it 
necessarily  forms  part  of  the  moral  organisation  of  humanity, 
which  is  binding  upon  the  good  will. 

XVI 

The  connection  of  right  with  morality  makes  it  possible  to 
speak  of  the  Christian  state.  It  would  be  unjust  to  maintain 
that  in  pre-Christian  times  the  state  had  no  moral  foundation. 

1 See  above,  Part  III.  Chapter  VIII.,  ‘ Morality  and  Legal  Justice.’ 


456  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

In  the  kingdoms  of  Judaea  and  of  Israel,  the  prophets  directly- 
put  moral  demands  to  the  state,  and  reproached  it  for  not  ful- 
filling these  demands.  In  the  pagan  world  it  is  sufficient  to 
mention  Theseus,  for  instance,  who  at  the  risk  of  his  life  freed 
his  subjects  from  the  cannibalistic  tribute  to  Crete,  in  order  to 
recognise  that  here  too  the  fundamental  moral  motive  of  the  state 
was  pity,  demanding  active  help  to  the  injured  and  the  suffering. 
The  difference  between  the  Christian  and  the  pagan  state  is  not 
then  in  their  natural  basis  but  in  something  else.  From  the 
Christian  point  of  view  the  state  is  only  a part  in  the  organisation 
of  the  collective  man — a part  conditioned  by  another  higher  part, 
the  Church,  which  consecrates  the  state  in  its  work  of  serving 
indirectly  in  its  own  worldly  sphere  and  by  its  own  means  the 
unconditional  purpose  which  the  Church  directly  puts  before  it — 
to  prepare  humanity  and  the  whole  earth  for  the  Kingdom  of  God. 
From  this  follow  the  two  chief  tasks  of  the  state — the  conservative 
and  the  progressive  : to  preserve  the  foundations  of  social  life  apart 
from  which  humanity  could  not  exist , and  to  improve  the  conditions  of 
its  existence  by  furthering  the  free  development  of  all  human 
powers  which  are  to  be  the  instrument  of  the  future  perfection, 
and  apart  from  which  the  Kingdom  of  God  could  not  be 
realised  in  humanity.  It  is  clear  that  just  as  without  the  con- 
servative activity  of  the  state  humanity  would  fall  apart  and  there 
would  be  no  one  left  to  enter  the  fulness  of  life,  so  without  its 
progressive  activity  mankind  would  always  remain  at  the  same 
stage  of  the  historical  process,  would  never  attain  the  power 
finally  to  receive  or  to  reject  the  Kingdom  of  God,  and  therefore 
there  would  be  nothing  to  live  for. 

In  paganism  it  was  the  conservative  task  of  the  state  that  was 
exclusively  predominant.  Although  the  state  furthered  historical 
progress,  it  did  so  involuntarily  and  unconsciously.  The  supreme 
purpose  of  action  was  not  put  by  the  agents  themselves,  it  was 
not  their  purpose  since  they  had  not  yet  heard  c the  gospel  of  the 
kingdom.’  The  progress  itself,  therefore,  although  it  formally 
differed  from  the  gradual  perfecting  of  the  kingdoms  of  the 
physical  nature  did  not  really  have  a purely-human  character  : it 
is  unworthy  of  man  to  move  in  spite  of  himself  to  a purpose  he 
does  not  know.  God’s  word  gives  a beautiful  image  of  the  great 
heathen  kingdoms  as  powerful  and  wonderful  beasts  which  rapidly 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  457 

appear  and  disappear.  The  natural,  earthly  men  have  no  final 
significance,  and  cannot  have  it  ; and  the  state,  created  by  such 
men,  is  their  collective  embodiment.  But  the  pagan  state,  con- 
ditional and  transitory  in  nature,  affirmed  itself  as  unconditional. 
Pagans  began  by  deifying  individual  bodies  (astral,  vegetable, 
animal,  and  especially  human)  in  the  multitude  of  their  various 
gods,  and  they  ended  by  deifying  the  collective  body — the  state 
(cult  of  the  Icings  in  the  Eastern  kingdoms,  the  apotheosis  of  the 
Roman  emperors). 

The  pagans  erred  not  in  ascribing  positive  significance  to  the 
state,  but  only  in  thinking  that  it  possessed  that  significance  on 
its  own  account.  This  was  obviously  untrue.  Neither  the  in- 
dividual nor  the  collective  body  of  man  has  life  on  its  own  account 
but  receives  it  from  the  spirit  that  inhabits  it.  This  is  clearly 
proved  by  the  fact  of  the  decomposition  both  of  the  individual 
and  of  the  collective  bodies.  The  perfect  body  is  that  in  which 
dwells  the  spirit  of  God.  Christianity,  therefore,  demands  not 
that  we  should  reject  or  limit  the  power  of  the  state,  but  that  we 
should  fully  recognise  the  principle  which  alone  may  render  the 
significance  of  the  state  actually  complete — namely,  its  moral 
solidarity  with  the  cause  of  the  Kingdom  of  God  on  earth,  all 
worldly  purposes  being  inwardly  subordinated  to  the  one  spirit  of 
Christ. 


XVII 

The  question  as  to  the  relation  of  the  Church  to  the  state, 
which  has  arisen  in  Christian  times,  can  be  solved  in  principle 
from  the  point  of  view  here  indicated.  The  Church  is,  as  we 
know,  a divinely-human  organisation,  morally  determined  by  piety. 
From  the  nature  of  the  case  the  Divine  principle  decidedly  pre- 
dominates in  the  Church  over  the  human.  In  the  relation 
between  them  the  first  is  pre-eminently  active  and  the  second  pre- 
eminently passive.  This  obviously  must  be  the  case  when  the 
human  will  is  in  direct  correlation  with  the  Divine.  The  active 
manifestation  of  the  human  will,  demanded  by  the  Deity  itself, 
is  only  possible  in  the  worldly  sphere  collectively  represented  by 
the  state,  which  had  reality  previously  to  the  revelation  of  the 
Divine  principle,  and  is  in  no  direct  dependence  upon  it.  The 


458  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

Christian  state  is  related  to  the  Deity,  as  the  Church  is  ; it  too 
is  in  a certain  sense  an  organisation  of  the  God-in-man,  but  in 
it  the  human  element  predominates.  This  is  only  possible 
because  the  Divine  principle  is  realised  not  in  the  state,  but 
for  it  in  the  Church.  So  that  in  the  state  the  Divine  principle 
gives  full  play  to  the  human  and  allows  it  independently  to  serve 
the  supreme  end.  From  the  moral  point  of  view  both  the  in- 
dependent activity  of  man  and  his  absolute  submission  to  the 
Deity  as  such  are  equally  necessary.  This  antinomy  can  only  be 
solved  and  the  two  positions  united  by  distinguishing  the  two 
spheres  of  life  (the  religious  and  the  political),  and  their  two 
immediate  motives  (piety  and  pity),  corresponding  to  the  difference 
in  the  immediate  object  of  action,  the  final  purpose  being  one 
and  the  same.  Pious  attitude  towards  a perfect  God  demands 
pity  for  men.  The  Christian  church  demands  a Christian  state. 
Here  as  elsewhere  separation  instead  of  distinction  leads  to  confusion , 
and  confusion  to  dissension  and  perdition.  Complete  separation 
of  the  Church  from  the  state  compels  the  Church  to  do  one  of 
two  things.  It  either  has  to  renounce  all  active  service  of  the 
good  and  to  give  itself  up  to  quietism  and  indifference — which  is 
contrary  to  the  spirit  of  Christ  ; or,  zealous  actively  to  prepare 
the  world  for  the  coming  of  God’s  kingdom,  but,  in  its  separation 
and  alienation  from  the  state,  having  no  means  at  its  command  for 
carrying  out  its  spiritual  activity,  the  Church,  in  the  person  of  its 
authoritative  representatives  has  itself  to  seize  the  concrete  instru- 
ments of  worldly  activity,  to  interfere  in  all  earthly  affairs  and, 
absorbed  in  the  question  of  means,  forget  its  original  purpose — 
an  unquestionably  pure  and  high  one — more  and  more.  Were 
such  confusion  allowed  to  become  permanent,  the  Church  would 
lose  the  very  ground  of  its  existence.  The  separation  proves  to 
be  no  less  harmful  to  the  other  side.  The  state  separated  from 
the  Church  either  gives  up  spiritual  interests  altogether,  loses  its 
supreme  consecration  and  dignity,  as  well  as  the  moral  respect  and 
the  material  submission  of  its  subjects,  or,  conscious  of  the 
importance  of  the  spiritual  interests  for  the  life  of  man,  but,  in  its 
separation  from  the  Church,  having  no  competent  and  independent 
institution  to  which  it  could  entrust  the  supreme  care  of  the 
spiritual  good  of  its  subjects, — the  task  of  preparing  the  nations  for 
the  Kingdom  of  God, — it  decides  to  take  that  task  upon  itself. 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  459 

To  do  so  consistently  the  state  would  have  to  assume  ex  officio  the 
supreme  spiritual  authority — which  would  be  a mad  and  dangerous 
usurpation  recalling  the  c man  of  lawlessness  ’ of  the  last  days.  It 
is  clear  that  in  forgetting  its  filial  attitude  towards  the  Church, 
the  state  would  be  acting  in  its  own  name,  and  not  in  the  name 
of  the  Father. 

The  normal  relation,  then,  between  the  state  and  the 
Church  is  this.  The  state  recognises  the  supreme  spiritual  authority 
of  the  universal  Churchy  which  indicates  the  general  direction  of 
the  goodwill  of  mankind  and  the  final  purpose  of  its  historical 
activity.  The  Church  leaves  to  the  state  full  power  to  bring  lawful 
worldly  interests  into  conformity  with  this  supreme  will  and  to  har- 
monise political  relations  and  actions  with  the  requirements  of  this 
supreme  purpose.  The  Church  must  have  no  power  of  compulsion , and 
the  power  of  compulsion  exercised  by  the  state  must  have  nothing  to  do 
with  the  domain  of  religion. 

The  state  is  the  intermediary  social  sphere  between  the  Church 
on  the  one  hand  and  the  material  society  on  the  other.  The 
absolute  aims  of  religious  and  moral  order  which  the  Church  puts 
before  humanity  and  which  it  represents,  cannot  be  realised  in  the 
given  human  material  without  the  formal  mediation  of  the  lawful 
authority  of  the  state  (in  the  worldly  aspect  of  its  activity),  which 
retains  the  forces  of  evil  within  certain  relative  bounds  until  the 
time  comes  when  all  human  wills  are  ready  to  make  the  decisive 
choice  between  the  absolute  good  and  the  unconditional  evil. 
The  direct  and  fundamental  motive  of  such  restraint  is  pity,  which 
determines  the  whole  progress  of  legal  justice  and  of  the  state. 
The  progress  is  not  in  the  principle,  but  in  its  application.  Com- 
pulsion exercised  by  the  state  draws  back  before  individual  freedom 
and  comes  forward  to  help  in  the  case  of  public  distress.  The 
rule  of  true  progress  is  this , that  the  state  should  interfere  as  little  as 
possible  with  the  inner  moral  life  of  man,  and  at  the  same  time  should 
as  securely  and  as  widely  as  possible  ensure  the  external  conditions  of 
his  worthy  existence  and  moral  development.  '1  he  state  which  chose 
on  its  own  authority  to  teach  its  subjects  true  theology  and  sound 
philosophy,  and  at  the  same  time  allowed  them  to  remain  illiterate, 
to  be  murdered  on  the  high-roads,  or  to  die  of  famine  and  of 
infection,  would  lose  its  raison  d'etre.  The  voice  of  the  true 
Church  might  well  say  to  such  a state  : “ It  is  I that  am  entrusted 


460  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

with  the  spiritual  salvation  of  these  men.  All  that  thou  are 
required  to  do  is  to  have  pity  on  their  worldly  difficulties  and 
frailties.  It  is  written  that  man  does  not  live  by  bread  alone , but 
it  is  not  written  that  he  lives  without  bread.  Pity  is  binding  upon 
all,  and  upon  me  also.  If,  therefore,  thou  wilt  not  be  the  collective 
organ  of  my  pity,  and  wilt  not,  by  rightly  dividing  our  labour, 
make  it  morally  possible  for  me  to  devote  myself  to  the  work  of 
piety,  I will  once  more  have  to  set  myself  to  do  the  work  of 
pity,  as  I have  done  in  the  old  days  when  thou,  the  state,  wast 
not  yet  called  Christian.  I will  myself  have  to  see  that  there 
should  be  no  famine  and  excessive  labour,  no  sick  uncared  for,  that 
the  injured  should  receive  reparation,  and  injurers  be  corrected. 
But  will  not  then  all  men  say  : What  need  have  we  of  the  state, 
which  has  no  pity  for  us,  since  we  have  a Church  which  took 
pity  on  our  bodies  as  well  as  on  our  souls  ? ” The  Christian  state, 
worthy  of  this  name,  is  one  which,  without  interfering  in  ecclesi- 
astical affairs,  acts  within  its  own  domain  in  the  kingly  spirit  of 
Christ,  who  pitied  the  sick  and  the  hungry,  taught  the  ignorant, 
forcibly  restrained  abuses  (driving  out  the  money-changers),  was 
kind  to  the  Samaritans  and  the  Gentiles,  and  forbade  his  disciples 
to  use  violence  against  unbelievers. 

XVIII 

Just  as  the  fundamental  moral  motive  of  piety,  determining 
our  right  attitude  to  the  absolute  principle,  is  organised  in  the 
Church,  and  the  other  ultimate  moral  principle,  that  of  pity, 
determining  our  right  attitude  to  our  neighbours,  is  organised  in 
the  state,  so  with  reference  to  the  third  essential  aspect  of  human 
life  our  moral  relation  to  the  lower  nature  (our  own  and  that  of 
others)  is  organised  objectively  and  in  a collective  form  in  society 
as  an  economic  union  or  zemstvo. 

The  moral  duty  of  abstinence  based  as  a fact  upon  the  feeling 
of  shame  inherent  in  human  nature,  is  the  true  principle  of  the 
economic  life  of  humanity  and  of  the  corresponding  social  organisa- 
tion, so  far  as  its  own  specific  task  is  concerned.  The  economic 
task  of  the  state  which  acts  from  motives  of  pity,  is  compulsorily 
to  secure  for  each  a certain  minimum  of  material  welfare  as  the 
necessary  condition  of  worthy  human  existence.  This  is  the  right 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  461 

solution  of  the  economic  question  with  regard  to  one  aspect  of 
it,  namely,  with  regard  to  relations  between  human  beings. 
Economic  activity  as  such  is,  however,  vitally  concerned  with 
man’s  relation  to  the  material  nature,  and  the  unconditional 
character  of  the  moral  principle  and  the  completeness  of  the  moral 
order  necessarily  demand  that  this  relation,  too,  should  be  brought 
under  the  norm  of  the  good  or  of  perfection.  Humanity  must 
therefore  be  morally  organised  not  only  in  the  ecclesiastical  and 
the  political,  but  also  in  the  specifically  economic  sphere  of  rela- 
tions. And  just  as  between  the  Church  and  the  state,  so  between 
the  three  parts  of  the  collective  moral  organisation  there  must 
be  unity  without  confusion  and  distinction  without  separation. 

What  form  must,  then,  the  good  assume  in  the  materially- 
economic  society  as  such  ? It  is  understood,  of  course,  that 
moral  philosophy  can  do  no  more  than  indicate  what  the  informing 
principle  and  the  final  end  of  such  a society  ought  to  be.  This 
principle  is  abstinence  from  the  evil  of  inordinate  carnality  ; this 
end  is  the  transmutation  of  the  material  nature,  both  of  our  own 
and  of  that  external  to  us,  into  the  free  form  of  the  human  spirit, 
a form  which  does  not  limit  it  from  without,  but  unconditionally 
completes  its  inward  and  external  existence. 

But  what  is  there  in  common,  it  will  be  asked,  between 
these  ideas  and  the  economic  reality  whose  principle  is  the  infinite 
multiplication  of  wants  and  whose  end  is  an  equally  infinite  multi- 
plication of  things  that  satisfy  these  wants.  Shame  and  shameless- 
ness, spiritualisation  of  the  body  and  materialisation  of  the  soul, 
resurrection  of  the  flesh  and  death  of  the  spirit,  certainly  do  have 
something  in  common,  but  the  common  element  is  purely  negative. 
This,  however,  is  of  no  importance.  The  fact  that  a moral  norm 
is  rejected  does  not  abolish,  but,  on  the  contrary,  brings  out  its 
inner  significance.  There  is  no  rational  ground  for  supposing 
that  the  economic  life  corresponds  to  the  ideal  from  the  first  in 
a way  in  which  neither  the  Church  nor  the  state  in  their  empirical 
reality  correspond  to  it.  There  undoubtedly  is  a certain  op- 
position between  the  feeling  of  shame  and  the  operations  on  the 
stock  exchange,  but  the  opposition  is  certainly  not  any  greater, 
and  perhaps  is  even  less  than  that  between  real  Christian  piety  and 
the  policy  of  the  mediaeval  Church.  There  is  a lack  of  correspond- 
ence between  the  principle  of  abstinence  and  money  speculations, 


462  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

but  again  it  is  not  any  greater,  and,  indeed,  is  less  great  than  that 
between  the  principle  of  the  state  as  based  upon  justice  and 
morality  and  the  institution  of  lettres  de  cachet , the  dragonnades  or 
the  wholesale  expulsions  of  persons  belonging  to  a different  religion. 
On  the  strength  of  what  has  happened  and  of  what  happens  still, 
one  may  think  that  the  whole  of  the  economic  sphere  is  simply 
the  field  for  greed  and  self-interest,  just  as  for  some  people  the 
whole  significance  of  religion  and  the  Church  is  summed  up  by 
the  ambition  of  the  clergy  and  the  superstitiousness  of  the  masses, 
and  for  others  the  political  world  contains  nothing  but  tyranny  of 
the  rulers  and  blind  submissiveness  of  the  crowd.  Such  views,  no 
doubt,  exist,  but  they  are  due  either  to  a desire  to  misunderstand 
the  true  meaning  of  things,  or  to  incapacity  to  understand  it.  The 
following  argument  is  of  more  weight.  Even  if  we  give  up  the 
immediate  demand  for  the  ideal  of  perfection  in  human  relations, 
we  still  ought  to  insist  upon  two  things  before  we  recognise  that 
the  relations  in  question  have  any  moral  worth  or  significance, 
(i)  The  moral  principle  said  to  be  involved  in  them  must  not  be 
altogether  foreign  to  them,  but  must  show  itself  in  them,  even  if 
in  an  imperfect  way  only.  (2)  In  their  historical  development 
they  must  approximate  to  the  norm  or  become  more  perfect. 
But  the  economic  life,  if  it  is  taken  as  a certain  organisation  of 
the  material  relations,  does  not  in  any  way  satisfy  these  two 
necessary  demands.  In  spite  of  all  possible  abuses  in  the  ecclesi- 
astical sphere,  it  could  not  be  seriously  denied  that  the  moral 
principle  of  piety  is  inherent  in  the  Church.  It  could  not,  for 
instance,  be  denied  that  the  temples  of  God  are,  generally 
speaking,  erected  owing  to  the  feeling  of  piety,  and  that  the 
majority  of  people  coming  to  the  services  are  moved  by  it.  It 
could  not  be  denied,  either,  that  in  some,  if  not  in  all,  respects  the 
life  of  the  Church  is  improving,  and  that  many  of  the  old  abuses 
have  now  become  impossible.  In  a similar  way  no  just  man  will 
deny  that  state  institutions — law  courts,  police,  schools,  hospitals, 
etc. — are  intended  for  the  moral  purpose  of  defending  men  from 
injuries  and  calamities  and  of  promoting  their  welfare,  nor  that 
the  means  of  attaining  that  purpose  by  the  state  are  gradually 
improving  in  the  sense  of  becoming  more  merciful.  But  in  the 
economic  realm  there  exists  no  institution  which  serves  of 
objective  expression  to  the  virtue  of  abstinence  and  helps  to 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  463 

spiritualise  the  material  nature.  The  moral  principle  by  which  our 
material  life  ought  to  be  determined,  and  our  external  environment 
transformed,  has  no  reality  whatever  in  the  domain  of  the  economic 
relations,  and,  therefore,  there  is  in  that  domain  nothing  to  improve. 

This  complete  separation  of  the  economic  life  from  its  own 
moral  purpose  is  unquestionably  a fact,  but  from  our  point  of 
view  it  can  be  satisfactorily  explained.  The  moral  organisation 
of  humanity,  the  principle  of  which  was  given  in  the  Christian 
religion,  could  not  be  equally  realised  in  all  its  parts.  A certain 
historical  successiveness  followed  from  the  very  nature  of  the  case. 
The  religious  task,  the  organisation  of  piety  in  the  Church,  was 
bound  to  occupy  the  foremost  place,  both  because  it  was  the 
most  essential  and,  in  a sense,  the  simplest  thing,  and  the  least 
conditioned  by  man.  Indeed,  man’s  relation  to  the  uncon- 
ditional principle  revealed  to  him  cannot  be  determined  by  any- 
thing other  than  that  principle  itself,  since  nothing  can  be 
higher  than  it  ; the  relation  rests  upon  its  own  foundation,  upon 
what  is  given.  The  second  task  of  the  moral  organisation — 
the  task  of  the  Christian  state — is,  in  addition  to  the  motive 
of  collective  pity,  also  conditioned  by  the  supreme  religious 
principle  which  liberates  that  worldly  pity  from  the  limitations 
it  had  in  the  heathen  state.  And  we  see  that  the  political  task 
of  historical  Christianity,  more  complex  and  conditioned  than 
the  religious  one,  comes  on  the  scene  subsequently  to  the  latter. 
There  was  a period  in  the  Middle  Ages  when  the  Church 
acquired  definite  organic  forms,  while  the  Christian  state  was  in  the 
same  condition  of  apparent  non-existence  as  the  Christian  economic 
life  is  to-day.  The  right  of  the  fist,  which  was  predominant  in 
the  Middle  Ages,  no  more  corresponded  to  the  ideal  of  the  state 
than  modern  banks  and  stock  exchanges  correspond  to  the  ideal 
of  economic  relations.  Practical  realisation  of  the  latter  is  natur- 
ally the  last  in  the  order  of  time  since  the  economic  sphere  is  the 
furthest  limit  for  the  application  of  the  moral  principle.  Its 
rightful  organisation,  i.e.  the  establishment  of  the  moral  relation 
between  man  and  material  nature,  is  inevitably  conditioned  in 
two  ways  : first,  by  the  normal  religious  attitude  of  humanity 
organised  in  the  Church  ; and,  secondly,  by  the  normal  inter- 
human or  altruistic  relations  organised  in  the  state. 

It  is  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  the  true  economic  problem  to 


464  the  justification  of  the  good 

which  some  socialists  of  the  first  half  of  the  nineteenth  century 
vaguely  groped  their  way,  and  from  which  modern  socialists  are 
as  far  removed  as  their  opponents,  has  not  yet  received  a stable 
and  definite  expression  even  in  theory. 

But  however  indefinite  the  last  practical  task  may  be,  the 
changes  in  the  moral  sentiments  that  predominated  in  the  history  of 
the  Christian  world  point  with  sufficient  clearness  to  three  main 
epochs.  The  epoch  of  piety  was  characterised  by  its  exclusive 
interest  for  the  c divine,’  its  indifference  and  distrust  of  the  human 
element,  its  hostility  and  fear  of  the  physical  nature.  This  first 
epoch,  in  spite  of  its  stability  and  long  duration,  contained  in  itself 
a seed  of  destruction  : the  spirit  of  the  one-sided,  intolerant  piety 
of  the  Middle  Ages  was  regarded  as  the  absolute  norm.  When 
this  contradiction  found  its  direct  and  extreme  expression  in  the 
inhuman  and  pitiless  religious  persecutions  inspired  by  c piety,’ 
there  was  a reaction  which  found  its  first  expression  in  idealistic 
humanism,  and  then  showed  itself  in  works  of  practical  pity  and 
mercy.  This  movement  of  human  morality  characteristic  of  the 
second  epoch  of  the  Christian  history — from  the  fifteenth  to  the 
nineteenth  century  inclusive — began  to  pass  in  the  course  of  that 
century  into  a third  stage.  Two  preliminary  truths  appeared  in 
the  living  consciousness  of  mankind.  The  first  is  that  if  mercy 
is  to  be  fully  carried  out  it  must  include  the  domain  of  the 
material  life , and  the  second  is  that  the  norm  of  the  material 
life  is  continence.  To  the  philosophers  this  truth  was  clear  in 
times  of  antiquity,  but  it  has  not  yet  shed  its  light  upon  the 
general  consciousness  for  which  it  is  but  vaguely  beginning  to  dawn. 
A glimmer  of  it  can  unquestionably  be  seen  in  the  nineteenth 
century  in  such  phenomena  as  the  ascetic  morality  of  the  fashion- 
able philosopher  Schopenhauer,  the  spread  of  vegetarianism,  the 
popularity  of  Hinduism  and  Buddhism  which,  though  badly  under- 
stood, are  taken  precisely  on  their  ascetic  side  ; the  success  of  the 
c Kreuzer  Sonata ,’  the  fear  of  the  good  people  lest  the  preaching 
of  continence  might  lead  to  a sudden  cessation  of  the  human 
race,  etc. 

Economic  relations  and  asceticism  are  the  two  apparently  wholly 
heterogeneous  orders  of  facts  and  ideas,  which,  in  the  beginning  of 
the  nineteenth  century,  were  brought  together  in  a perfectly  crude 
and  external  way  by  Malthusianism.  The  inner  and  essential  con- 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  465 

nection  between  them  consists  in  the  positive  duty  of  man  to  save 
material  nature  from  the  necessity  of  death  and  decay , and  to  prepare  it 
for  universal  bodily  resurrection. 


XIX 

It  is  generally  believed  that  the  purpose  of  the  economic 
activity  is  the  increase  of  wealth.  But  the  purpose  of  wealth 
itself — unless  one  adopts  the  point  of  view  of  the  ‘ avaricious 
knight  ’ — is  to  possess  the  fulness  of  physical  existence.  This  fulness 
no  doubt  depends  upon  man’s  relation  to  the  material  nature,  and 
here  two  ways  are  open  before  us.  We  can  either  selfishly  exploit 
the  earthly  nature  or  lovingly  cultivate  it.  The  first  way  has  already 
been  tried,  and  although  it  has  been  of  some  indirect  benefit  to 
the  intellectual  development  of  man  and  to  the  external  human 
culture,  the  main  purpose  cannot  be  attained  by  it.  Nature  yields 
to  man  on  the  surface,  gives  him  the  semblance  of  dominion  over 
her,  but  the  fictitious  treasures,  won  bv  violence,  bring  no  happi- 
ness and  scatter  in  the  wind  like  burnt- up  cinders.  By  means  of 
external  exploitation  of  the  powers  of  the  earth  man  cannot  secure 
that  which  is  essential  to  his  material  welfare, — he  cannot,  that  is, 
heal  his  physical  life  and  render  it  immortal.  And  he  cannot 
possess  nature  from  within,  for  its  true  substance  is  unknown  to 
him.  But  in  virtue  of  his  reason  and  conscience  he  knows  the 
moral  conditions,  lying  within  his  own  control,  which  may  place 
him  in  the  right  relation  to  nature.  Reason  reveals  to  him 
that  every  real  fact  or  event  is  subject  to  the  undefeasible  law 
of  the  conservation  of  energy.  Carnal  desires  seek  to  bind 
the  soul  to  the  surface  of  nature,  to  the  material  things  and 
processes,  and  to  turn  the  inner  potential  infinity  of  the  human 
being  into  the  evil  external  boundlessness  of  passions  and  lusts. 
Conscience  even  in  its  elementary  form  of  shame  condemns  this 
path  as  unworthy , and  reason  shows  that  it  is  perilous.  The 
more  the  soul  expends  itself  outwardly,  upon  the  surface  of 
things,  the  less  inner  force  it  has  left  for  penetrating  to 
the  inmost  substance  of  nature  and  taking  possession  of  it. 
It  is  clear  that  man  can  truly  spiritualise  nature,  that  is,  call 
forth  and  develop  its  inner  life,  only  by  his  own  overflowing 
spirituality  ; and  it  is  equally  clear  that  man  himself  can  only 

2 H 


466  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

become  spiritualised  at  the  expense  of  his  external,  outwardly 
directed  mental  powers  and  desires.  The  powers  and  desires  of 
the  soul  must  be  drawn  within  and,  through  this,  increase  in 
intensity.  And  the  inwardly  concentrated,  powerful  and  spiritual- 
ised being  of  man  will  be  in  communion  with  the  inner  substance 
of  nature  and  no  longer  with  its  material  surface. 

What  is  required  is  not  that  man  should  give  up  externally 
acting  upon  nature  and  carrying  on  the  work  of  civilisation,  but 
that  he  should  change  the  purpose  of  his  life  and  the  centre  of 
gravity  of  his  will.  External  objects  which  most  men  passionately 
seek  as  ends  in  themselves,  expending  upon  them  their  inner 
powers  of  feeling  and  will,  must  entirely  become  the  means  and 
the  instruments,  while  the  inner  forces  gathered  and  concentrated 
within  must  be  used  as  a powerful  lever  to  lift  the  weight  of  the 
material  being  which  crushes  both  the  scattered  soul  of  man  and 
the  divided  soul  of  nature. 

The  normal  principle  of  the  economic  activity  is  economy — the  saving , 
the  collecting  of  psychical  forces  by  means  of  transmuting  one  species  of 
mental  energy  ( the  external  or  extensive)  into  another  kind  of  energy 
[the  internal  or  the  intensive).  Man  either  scatters  his  sensuous 
soul  or  he  gathers  it  together.  In  the  first  case  he  achieves 
nothing  either  for  himself  or  for  nature,  in  the  second  he  heals 
and  saves  both  himself  and  it.  Speaking  generally,  organisation 
signifies  that  the  means  and  instruments  of  the  lower  order  are 
co-ordinated  for  the  attainment  of  one  general  purpose  of  a higher 
order.  Therefore  the  principle  of  economic  activity  that  has 
hitherto  been  dominant — the  indefinite  multiplication  of  the  ex- 
ternal and  particular  wants,  and  the  recognition  of  the  external 
means  of  satisfying  them  as  ends  in  themselves — is  the  principle 
of  disorganisation,  of  social  decomposition,  while  the  principle  of 
moral  philosophy — the  collecting  and  the  drawing  in  of  all  the 
external  material  purposes  into  one  inward  and  mental  purpose 
of  the  complete  reunion  of  the  human  being  with  the  sub- 
stance of  nature,  is  the  principle  of  organisation  and  universal 
resuscitation. 

It  must  be  remembered,  however,  that  this  task  is  third  in  the 
order  of  time  in  the  general  moral  organisation  of  humanity,  and 
that  the  real  solution  of  it  is  conditioned  by  the  first  two.  The 
practice  of  personal  asceticism  can  be  normal  and  rational  only  on 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  467 

condition  of  a pious  attitude  to  God  and  pity  to  men.  If  this 
were  not  so,  the  devil  would  be  the  pattern  of  asceticism.  In  a 
similar  manner  the  collective  organisation  of  the  material  life  of 
man  in  accordance  with  the  principle  of  gathering  the  inner  forces 
and  restraining  the  outer  wants,  cannot  be  rightly  and  success- 
fully carried  out  by  isolated  agents  in  the  economic  realm  taken 
by  itself.  It  involves  the  recognition  of  the  absolute  purpose 
— the  Kingdom  of  God — represented  by  the  Church,  and  requires 
the  help  of  the  rightful  methods  of  state  organisation.  Neither 
the  individual  nor  the  collective  man  can  introduce  normal  order 
into  his  material  life  apart  from  his  religion  and  his  relation  to 
other  men. 

Moral  organisation  of  the  human  race  or  its  regeneration  into 
the  divine  humanity  is  an  indivisible  threefold  process.  Its  absolute 
purpose  is  laid  down  by  the  Church  as  the  organised  piety,  collec- 
tively receptive  of  the  Divine  grace  ; its  formal  means  and  instru- 
ments are  supplied  by  the  purely  human,  free  principle  of  just  pity 
or  sympathy,  collectively  organised  in  the  state  ; and  it  is  only  the 
ultimate  substratum  or  the  material  body  of  the  God-in-man  that 
is  found  in  the  economic  life,  determined  by  the  principle  of 
continence. 


XX 

The  individual  factor  is,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  inevitably 
involved  in  the  social  or  the  collective  aspect  of  the  moral  organisa- 
tion of  humanity.  It  is  only  in  and  through  the  activity  of  the 
individual  bearers  of  the  supreme  principles  of  life  that  humanity 
increases  in  perfection,  or  is  morally  organised  in  the  various 
aspects  of  its  existence.  The  unity,  the  completeness,  and  the 
right  direction  of  the  general  moral  progress  depend  upon  a har- 
monious co-operation  of  the  leading  or ‘representative’ individuals. 
The  normal  relation  between  the  state  and  the  Church  would  find 
its  essential  condition  and  visible  real  embodiment  in  the  abiding 
harmony  of  their  supreme  representatives,  the  high  priest  and  the 
king.  The  power  of  the  king  would  be  consecrated  by  the 
authority  of  the  priest,  and  the  authoritative  will  of  the  latter  would 
only  find  expression  through  the  fulness  of  the  power  of  the  former. 
The  high  priest  of  the  Church,  the  direct  bearer  of  the  Divine 


468  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

principle,  the  representative  of  the  spiritual  parentage , the  father  by 
pre-eminence,  ought,  every  time  that  he  is  tempted  to  abuse  his 
authority  by  turning  it  into  a power  of  compulsion,  to  remember 
the  words  of  the  gospel  that  the  Father  judges  no  one,  but  has 
passed  all  judgment  to  the  Son,  for  he  is  the  Son  of  man.  The 
Christian  king,  pre-eminently  the  son  of  the  Church,  when 
tempted  to  raise  his  supreme  temporal  power  to  the  level  of  the 
highest  spiritual  authority,  and  allow  it  to  interfere  with  the 
affairs  of  religion  and  conscience,  ought  in  his  turn  to  remember 
that  even  the  King  of  Heaven  does  the  will  of  the  Father. 

The  authority  of  the  high  priest,  as  well  as  the  power  of  the 
king,  are,  however,  inevitably  connected  with  external  advan- 
tages, and  are  open  to  temptations  that  may  prove  too  strong. 
Disputes,  encroachments  and  misunderstandings  are  bound  to 
arise,  and  they  obviously  cannot  be  finally  settled  by  one  of  the 
interested  parties.  All  external  limitations  are,  as  a matter  of 
principle  or  of  ideal,  incompatible  with  the  supreme  dignity  of  the 
pontifical  authority  and  of  the  royal  power.  But  a purely  moral 
control  over  them  on  the  part  of  the  free  forces  of  the  nation  and 
society  is  both  possible  and  extremely  desirable.  In  the  old  Israel 
there  had  existed  a third  supreme  calling,  that  of  the  prophet. 
Abolished  by  Christianity  in  theory,  it  practically  disappeared  from 
the  stage  of  history,  and  came  forward  in  exceptional  cases  only, 
for  the  most  part  in  a distorted  form.  Hence  all  the  anomalies  of 
mediaeval  and  modern  history.  The  restoration  of  the  pro- 
phetic calling  does  not  rest  with  the  will  of  man,  but  a reminder 
of  its  purely  moral  significance  is  very  opportune  in  our  day,  and 
is  appropriate  at  the  end  of  an  exposition  of  moral  philosophy. 

Just  as  the  high  priest  of  the  Church  is  the  highest  expression 
of  piety,  and  the  Christian  monarch  the  highest  expression  of 
mercy  and  truth,  so  the  true  prophet  is  the  highest  expression  of 
shame  and  conscience.  This  inner  nature  of  the  prophetic  calling 
determines  its  external  characteristics.  The  true  prophet  is  a 
social  worker  who  is  absolutely  independent,  and  neither  fears,  nor 
submits  to,  anything  external.  Side  by  side  with  the  representatives 
of  absolute  authority  and  absolute  power  there  must  be  in  human 
society  representatives  of  absolute  freedom.  Such  freedom  cannot 
belong  to  the  crowd,  cannot  be  an  attribute  of  democracy.  Every 
one,  of  course,  desires  to  have  moral  freedom,  as  every  one,  perhaps, 


MORAL  ORGANISATION  OF  HUMANITY  469 

might  wish  to  have  the  supreme  authority  and  power  ; but  desiring 
is  not  enough.  The  supreme  authority  and  power  are  given  by  the 
grace  of  God  ; the  true  freedom  man  must  deserve  for  himself  by  self- 
renunciation.  ' The  right  to  be  free  follows  from  the  very  nature  of 
man  and  must  be  externally  safeguarded  by  the  state.  But  the 
degree  to  which  this  right  may  be  realised  entirely  depends  upon 
inner  conditions,  upon  the  level  of  the  moral  consciousness.  The 
man  who  has  complete  freedom,  both  external  and  inward,  is  one 
who  is  not  inwardly  bound  by  anything  external,  and  in  the  last 
resort  knows  of  no  other  standard  of  judgment  and  conduct  than 
the  good  will  and  the  pure  conscience. 

The  high  priest  is  the  coping-stone  of  a numerous  and  complex 
hierarchy  of  the  clergy,  through  which  he  comes  into  contact  with 
the  whole  of  the  laity  ; the  king  carries  out  his  work  among  the 
people  through  a complex  system  of  civil  and  military  institutions 
represented  by  individual  men  ; in  a similar  manner  the  free 
followers  of  the  supreme  ideal  realise  it  in  the  life  of  the  community 
through  a number  of  men  who  more  or  less  fully  participate  in 
their  aspirations.  The  three  services  can  be  best  distinguished 
by  the  fact  that  the  office  of  the  priest  derives  its  main  force 
from  pious  devotion  to  the  true  traditions  of  the  past ; the  office 
of  the  king — from  a correct  understanding  of  the  true  needs  of 
the  present  and  the  office  of  the  prophet,  from  the  faith  in  the 
true  vision  of  the  future.  The  difference  between  the  prophet 
and  the  idle  dreamer  lies  in  the  fact  that  in  the  case  of  the  prophet 
the  frowers  and  fruits  of  the  ideal  future  do  not  hang  in  the  air  of 
personal  imagination,  but  are  supported  by  the  visible  stem  of  the 
present  social  needs  and  by  the  mysterious  roots  of  religious 
tradition.  And  it  is  this  same  fact  that  connects  the  calling  of 
the  prophet  with  the  office  of  priest  and  king. 


CONCLUSION 


THE  FINAL  DEFINITION  OF  THE  MORAL  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  LIFE 

AND  THE  TRANSITION  TO  THE  THEORETICAL  PHILOSOPHY 

Our  life  acquires  moral  worth  and  significance  when,  through 
striving  after  perfection,  it  becomes  related  to  the  perfect  good. 
It  follows  from  the  very  conception  of  the  perfect  good  that  all 
life  and  all  existence  are  connected  with  it.  There  is  meaning  in 
the  animal  life,  in  its  functions  of  nourishment  and  reproduction. 
But  this  meaning,  important  and  unquestionable  as  it  is,  ex- 
presses only  an  involuntary  and  partial  connection  of  a particular 
being  with  the  universal  good,  and  cannot  satisfy  the  life  of  man  ; 
his  will  and  his  reason,  being  forms  of  the  infinite,  demand 
something  more.  The  spirit  is  nurtured  by  the  knowledge  of  the 
perfect  good  and  is  propagated  by  doing  good,  by  realising,  that 
is,  the  unconditional  and  universal  in  all  the  particular  con- 
ditions and  relations.  In  inwardly  demanding  a perfect  union  with 
the  absolute  good  we  show  that  that  which  is  demanded  by  us 
has  not  yet  been  given  us,  and  that,  therefore,  the  moral  signi- 
ficance of  our  life  can  only  consist  in  approaching  the  perfect 
association  with  the  good  or  in  rendering  perfect  our  actual  inner 
connection  with  it. 

The  demand  for  moral  perfection  involves  the  general  idea  of 
the  absolute  good  and  of  its  necessary  attributes.  It  must  be  all- 
embracing,  that  is,  it  must  be  the  criterion  of  our  moral  relation 
to  all  things.  All  that  exists  or  may  exist  is  from  the  moral  point 
of  view  exhausted  by  three  categories  : it  is  either  above  us,  or 
on  a level  with  us,  or  below  us.  It  is  logically  impossible  to  find  a 
fourth  relation.  Our  inner  consciousness  testifies  that  above  us 
is  the  absolute  good  or  God  and  that  which  already  is  in  perfect 
union  with  Him,  a union  we  have  not  yet  attained  ; on  a level  with 

470 


THE  MORAL  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  LIFE  471 

us  is  everything  which,  like  ourselves,  is  capable  of  spontaneously 
increasing  in  moral  perfection,  everything  which,  like  us,  is  on  the 
way  to  the  absolute,  and  can  conceive  the  purpose  of  its  action, — that 
is,  all  human  beings  ; below  us  is  all  that  is  incapable  of  inward 
spontaneous  perfection  and  that  can  enter  through  us  only  into 
a perfect  relation  with  the  absolute — namely,  material  nature. 
This  threefold  relation  in  its  most  general  form  is  a fact.  We 
arenas,  a fact^  subordinate  to  the  absolute,  by  whatever  name  we 
might  describe  it.  We  are,  as  a fact,  equal  to  other  men  in  the 
essential  attributes  of  human  nature,  and  through  heredity,  history, 
and  social  life  are  one  with  them  in  our  earthly  destiny.  We 
possess,  as  a fact,  important  advantages  over  the  material  creation. 
The  moral  problem  then  can  only  consist  in  perfecting  what  is  given. 
The  fact  of  the  threefold  relation  must  be  transformed  into  a 
threefold  norm  of  rational  and  voluntary  activity.  The  inevitable 
submission  to  the  supreme  power  must  become  the  conscious  and 
free  service  of  the  perfect  good  ; the  natural  solidarity  with  other 
human  beings  must  be  transformed  into  sympathetic  and  har- 
monious co  - operation  ; the  actual  advantages  we  have  over 
material  nature  must  become  rational  mastery  over  it  for  our  good 
and  its  own. 

The  true  beginning  of  moral  progress  is  contained  in  the 
three  fundamental  feelings  which  are  inherent  in  human  nature 
and  constitute  natural  virtue  : the  feeling  of  shame  which  safe- 
guards our  higher  dignity  against  the  encroachments  of  the 
animal  desires,  the  feeling  of  pity  which  establishes  an  inner 
equality  between  ourselves  and  others,  and,  finally,  the  religious 
feeling  which  expresses  our  recognition  of  the  supreme  good. 
Inseparable  from  these  feelings  is  the  consciousness,  even  though 
it  be  a dim  one,  that  they  are  the  norm,  and  express  what  is 
good,  while  the  opposite  of  them  is  bad  — the  consciousness 
that  one  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  immoderate  physical  desires  and 
slavery  to  the  animal  nature,  that  one  ought  to  pity  others,  ought 
to  do  homage  to  the  Divine.  These  feelings,  representing  th z good 
nature  which  strives  from  the  first  towards  that  which  ought  to  be, 
and  the  testimony  of  conscience  that  accompanies  them  constitute 
the  one  or  rather  the  three-in-one  foundation  of  moral  progress. 
Conscientious  reason  generalises  the  impulses  of  the  good  nature  and 
makes  them  into  a law „ The  content  of  the  moral  law  is  that 


472  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

which  is  given  in  the  good  feelings,  but  it  is  clothed  in  the  form 
of  a universal  and  binding  demand  or  imperative.  Moral  law 
grows  out  of  the  testimony  of  conscience,  and  conscience  itself 
is  the  feeling  of  shame  developed  on  its  formal  and  not  on  its 
material  side. 

With  regard  to  our  lower  nature  the  moral  law,  generalising 
the  immediate  feeling  of  modesty,  commands  us  always  to  dominate 
all  sensual  desires,  admitting  them  only  as  a subordinate  element 
within  the  limits  of  reason  ; morality  at  this  stage  no  longer  takes 
the  form— as  in  the  elementary  feeling  of  shame — of  the  mere 
instinctive  rejection  of  the  hostile  element  or  recoiling  before 
it,  but  demands  actual  struggle  with  the  flesh.  With  regard  to 
other  human  beings,  the  moral  law  gives  to  the  feeling  of  pity  or 
sympathy  the  form  of  justice,  and  demands  that  we  should  recog- 
nise each  of  our  neighbours  as  having  the  same  absolute  signifi- 
cance as  ourselves,  or  that  we  should  regard  others  as  we  could 
consistently  wish  them  to  regard  us,  independently  of  this  or  that 
particular  feeling.  Finally,  in  relation  to  the  Deity  the  moral 
law  affirms  itself  as  the  expression  of  Its  law-giving  will,  and 
demands  that  that  will  should  be  unconditionally  recognised  for 
the  sake  of  its  own  dignity  or  perfection.  But  when  this  pure 
recognition  of  God’s  will  as  the  all-embracing  and  all-sufficient 
good  has  been  attained,  it  must  be  clear  that  the  fulness  of  this 
will  can  only  be  revealed  through  its  own  inner  effects  in  the  soul 
of  man.  Having  risen  to  this  level,  the  formal  or  rational 
morality  enters  the  domain  of  the  absolute  morality — the  good  of 
the  rational  law  is  completed  by  the  good  of  the  Divine  grace. 

According  to  the  usual  teaching  of  true  Christianity,  which 
correctly  represents  the  position,  grace  does  not  abolish  nature 
and  natural  morality  but  ‘ perfects  ’ it,  that  is,  brings  it  to  perfec- 
tion ; in  like  manner  grace  does  not  abolish  law,  but  fulfils  it, 
and  only  in  so  far  as  it  does  so,  renders  it  unnecessary. 

The  fulfilment  of  the  moral  law,  whether  instinctive  or 
deliberate,  cannot,  however,  be  limited  to  the  personal  life  of 
the  individual— for  two  reasons,  a natural  and  a moral  one.  The 
natural  reason  is  that  the  individual  taken  separately  does  not 
exist  at  all.  From  the  point  of  view  of  practice  this  reason  is 
quite  sufficient,  but  strict  moralists  who  care  not  for  what  is  but 
for  what  ought  to  he  will  attach  greater  weight  to  the  moral 


THE  MORAL  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  LIFE  473 

reason — to  the  incompatibility,  namely,  between  the  idea  of  a 
separate  isolated  man  and  the  idea  of  moral  perfection.  On 
natural  and  moral  grounds  the  process  of  attaining  perfection, 
which  constitutes  the  moral  significance  of  our  life,  can  only 
be  conceived  as  a collective  process,  taking  place  in  the  collec- 
tive man,  that  is,  in  the  family,  in  the  nation,  in  humanity. 
These  three  aspects  of  the  collective  man  do  not  replace  but 
mutually  support  and  complete  one  another,  each  following  its 
own  path  towards  perfection.  Perfection  is  being  attained  by  the 
family  which  spiritualises  and  preserves  for  eternity  the  significance 
of  the  individual  past  in  and  through  the  moral  bond  with  the 
forefathers,  the  significance  of  the  real  present  in  true  marriage 
and  the  significance  of  the  individual  future  in  the  upbringing  of 
new  generations.  Perfection  is  being  attained  by  the  nation, 
which  deepens  and  extends  its  natural  solidarity  with  other  nations 
by  entering  into  moral  communion  with  them.  Perfection  is 
being  attained  by  humanity  which  organises  the  good  in  the 
general  forms  of  the  religious,  political,  and  social -economic 
culture,  rendering  them  more  and  more  conformable  to  the 
final  end  — the  preparation  of  humanity  for  the  unconditional 
moral  order,  or  the  kingdom  of  God.  Religious  good  or  piety 
is  organised  in  the  Church  which  seeks  to  make  its  human 
aspect  more  perfect  by  making  it  more  and  more  conformable  to 
the  Divine.  The  inter-human  good  or  justice  and  pity  is  organised 
in  the  State  which  grows  more  perfect  by  extending  the  domain 
of  justice  and  mercy  at  the  expense  of  violence  and  arbitrariness 
both  within  the  nation  and  between  nations.  The  physical  good 
or  man’s  moral  relation  to  material  nature  is  organised  in  the 
economic  union,  the  perfection  of  which  consists  not  in  the 
accumulation  of  things,  but  in  the  spiritualisation  of  matter  as  the 
condition  of  normal  and  eternal  existence  in  the  physical  world. 

Constant  interaction  between  personal  moral  effort  and  the 
organised  moral  work  of  collective  man  finally  justifies  the  moral 
significance  of  life — that  is,  it  justifies  the  good,  which  thus  appears 
in  all  its  purity,  fulness,  and  power.  The  system  of  moral  philo- 
sophy worked  out  in  the  present  book  is  a conceptual  reproduction 
of  this  process  in  its  totality  ; it  follows  history  in  what  has  been 
attained  already,  and  anticipates  it  in  what  is  still  left  to  be  done. 
In  reducing  its  contents  to  one  formula  we  shall  find  that  the 


474  THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  GOOD 

perfection  of  the  good  finally  shows  itself  as  the  inseverable 
organisation  of  a threefold  love.  The  feeling  of  reverence  or  piety, 
which  means  at  first  a timid  and  involuntary  and  then  a free  and 
filial  submission  to  the  supreme  principle,  comes  to  know  its 
object  as  absolute  perfection,  and  is  transformed  into  a pure,  all- 
embracing,  and  boundless  love  for  it,  conditioned  solely  by  the 
recognition  of  its  absolute  character — an  ascending  love.  In  con- 
formity with  its  all-embracing  object  this  love  includes  all  else  in 
God,  and,  in  the  first  place,  those  who,  like  us,  can  participate  in 
it,  i.e.  human  beings.  Our  physical  and  subsequently  our  moral 
and  political  pity  for  men  becomes  a spiritual  love  for  them,  or  an 
equalising  love.  But  the  Divine  and  all-embracing  love  to  which 
man  attains  does  not  stop  at  this  ; becoming  a descending  love  it 
acts  upon  material  nature,  bringing  it  also  within  the  fulness  of 
the  absolute  good,  making  it  the  living  throne  of  the  Divine 
glory. 

When  this  universal  justification  of  the  good,  its  extension  to 
all  the  relations  of  life,  is  clearly  seen  as  a historical  fact  by  every 
mind,  the  only  question  for  the  individual  will  be  the  practical 
question  of  will, — to  accept  this  perfect  moral  significance  of  life 
for  oneself,  or  to  reject  it.  But  as  long  as  the  end  has  not  yet 
come,  as  long  as  the  rightness  of  the  good  has  not  become  self- 
evident  in  all  things  and  to  all,  further  theoretical  doubt  is  still 
possible.  That  doubt  cannot  be  solved  within  the  limits  of 
moral  or  practical  philosophy,  although  it  in  no  way  detracts  from 
the  binding  character  of  its  maxims  upon  men  of  good  will. 

If  the  moral  significance  of  life  in  the  last  resort  consists  in 
the  struggle  with  evil  and  in  the  triumph  of  good  over  evil,  there 
arises  the  eternal  question  as  to  the  origin  of  evil  itself.  If  evil 
springs  from  the  good,  struggle  with  it  seems  to  be  based  upon  a 
misconception  ; if  it  arises  independently  of  the  good,  the  good 
cannot  be  unconditional,  since  the  condition  of  its  realisation  will 
be  external  to  it.  And  if  the  good  is  not  unconditional,  wherein 
does  its  essential  superiority  consist,  and  what  is  the  final  guarantee 
of  its  triumph  over  evil  ? 

Rational  faith  in  the  absolute  good  is  based  upon  inner 
experience,  and  upon  that  which  with  logical  necessity  follows 
from  it.  But  inner  religious  experience  is  a personal  matter, 
and,  from  the  external  point  of  view,  is  conditional.  When, 


THE  MORAL  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  LIFE  475 

therefore,  rational  faith  based  upon  it  becomes  a system  of  uni- 
versal theoretic  assertions,  it  must  be  theoretically  justified. 

The  question  as  to  the  origin  of  evil  is  purely  intellectual, 
and  can  be  solved  by  a true  metaphysic  alone,  which,  in  its  turn, 
presupposes  the  solution  of  the  question  as  to  the  nature,  the 
validity,  and  the  means  of  knowing  the  truth. 

The  independence  of  moral  philosophy  in  its  own  sphere  does 
not  prevent  it  from  being  inwardly  connected  with  theoretical 
philosophy — the  theory  of  knowledge  and  metaphysics. 

It  least  of  all  befits  believers  in  the  absolute  good  to  fear 
philosophical  investigation,  as  if  the  moral  significance  of  the 
world  could  lose  by  being  finally  explained,  and  as  though  union 
with  God  in  love,  and  harmony  with  His  will,  could  leave  us  no 
part  in  the  Divine  intellect.  Having  justified  the  good  as  such 
in  moral  philosophy,  we  must,  in  theoretical  philosophy,  justify 
the  good  as  Truth. 


THE  END 


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The  Times. 

“ Curiously  arresting.  . . . ‘The  Emigrant’  is  to  be  recommended  to  those 
who  care  to  stray  off  the  beaten  paths  of  fiction.” — Globe. 

“ Of  considerable  power  and  interest.” — Athenczum. 


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CONSTABLE  & CO.,  Ltd.,  io  Orange  Street,  LONDON,  W.C.2. 


170  S53SD 


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